


Seek His Monument

by SilverGlimmers



Category: Batman v Superman: Dawn of Justice, Man of Steel (2013)
Genre: Batman v Superman: Dawn of Justice Spoilers, F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-24
Updated: 2016-07-15
Packaged: 2018-06-04 03:02:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 32,988
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6638668
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SilverGlimmers/pseuds/SilverGlimmers
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Takes place two weeks after the end of Batman V Superman: Dawn of Justice. Serious spoilers if you haven't seen it. Lois is assigned a new story and finds something she's been looking for.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I had feelings and I needed to get them out, lol. Thanks for reading, hope you like it. :)

"Lois, I want you to go interview a guy in Metropolis General, he saved a homeless man and got his hand crushed. Poor bastard."

Lois pulled herself from the article she was putting together with difficulty. Perry waited with an edge of impatience for her to actually raise her head and meet his gaze. The silence before she answered was just barely longer than normal.

"Why?"

"Because, Lois. We are a newspaper. We report news." Perry hadn't lost his sarcastic edge at all since Clark was killed, but he hadn't been using it on Lois of late. She barely noticed, her mind already working.

"No. I mean why don't you have Jenny cover it?" Lois rarely spent time reporting community interest stories. Perry knew she was far better at covering larger issues.

"I want you to do it."

She couldn't quite hide her lack of enthusiasm, her gaze already flickering back to her computer to contemplate the headline. It was another piece about Lex Luthor and his role in Superman's death. Lois was steadily filling the gaps in the public conscious about Lex's crimes, especially the ones directly surrounding Superman. She'd already given her testimony on being kidnapped by Lex, cleared Superman of any fault in the Nairomi incident, and was now tackling the Capitol bombing.

It had been two weeks since they buried Clark, and she had barely stopped working.

"Lois." Perry lowered his voice, and the concern in his voice was what caught her attention and pulled her away again. He was leaning down to put a paper with a name and contact details in front of her. He laid it on her notepad and held it with a finger, looking into her face. "You're the one I want on this. There's something about it. No one else can dig to the center of a story like you. You are taking this one."

A stir of interest rose as she looked at him. He was very serious. The idea that this story might be innocent on the surface but cover a deeper secret was intriguing, as always. She loved digging deeper. Her eyes darted back to her computer one last time before she sighed. "Fine."

Perry nodded in satisfaction and slid the paper closer to her before straightening up. "As soon as possible. I want you to interview him today if you can."

Lois was already picking up the phone to dial.

* * *

The man's name was Roger Peterson, and he worked construction. His wife fielded the call since he was in another surgery. They made an appointment for Lois to visit in a few hours, once he was back in his room and stabilized enough to be interviewed.

Lois spent the next several hours researching the accident and prepping for the interview. She ate lunch alone at her desk, simultaneously chewing, scouring the internet and making a few more calls. It was only once she ran out of things to do and sat still for a moment, brain finally quiet, that she realized how tired she was. She was exhausted.

She hadn't slept much since the funeral. That was to be expected. Their bed was too empty knowing Clark would never return to it. It was too big without his warmth. She missed how the cold never bothered him. She missed his smile. She dreamed of him and slept restlessly when she did manage to fall asleep. And it wasn't much better when she was awake, because she simply couldn't find Clark Kent anywhere.

She wasn't delusional. She knew he was dead and gone. But even in their apartment, surrounded by their things and pictures with both of them, Lois couldn't feel anything but piercing loss. It was normal. A natural part of losing a loved one. Yet it felt wrong. He was Superman. Didn't that make him more?

So she still looked for him at the Daily Planet, expecting him to come in any moment and tell her he had just needed some rest. She still found herself looking for him on her phone, waiting for a text, or in the news waiting to write a story when Superman performed some great act. He still felt larger than life, and so somehow an irrational part of her mind felt he must also be larger than death.

But she couldn't find him. She of all people knew what made him vulnerable, and that he could be hurt and even killed in the right circumstances. The worst had happened. He was a powerful being, but he was also just her Clark. She missed him so much it settled into a numb, cold ache in her chest.

Now the only time she really felt close to him was when she was deep into an article clearing his name or bringing Luthor's machinations to light. That was when she could see him best. Clark Kent, the Superman she loved. She wanted his name cleared and his image restored. Clark was gone. He had left her, and all she could do now was work day and night to clear his name.

* * *

Roger's wife had told her the floor and room number, so she made her way through Metropolis General with ease. She tapped lightly on the correct door. "Mr. Peterson?"

"Come in." His voice was rumbly and slightly hoarse. Lois gave him a congenial smile and moved inside, closing the door behind her. "You that reporter my wife talked to?"

"Yes. I'm Lois Lane."

He was sitting up, the head of the hospital bed raised to allow him a better view of the television. He was wrinkled and weathered, looking about sixty but probably closer to fifty. He looked like he had worked outside for most of his life. His disheveled gray hair matched his two day old stubble. One hand was very still at his side, wrapped in gauze with a small drain protruding. He used his good one to turn off the TV. "There's not much to tell you, sorry you had to come all the way down here." He raised his good hand—his left one—to awkwardly shake hers.

"It's no problem. I'd just like to hear your story." Lois waited while he mulled that over a moment. She could see he wasn't truly hostile, but he didn't seem to see what the fuss was about. Finally he waved at the chair across the room.

"Fine. Not much of a story though."

Lois sat and pulled out her notebook, then placed her phone on the bedside table with the microphone app ready to record. "Do you mind if I record you?" Roger shrugged. She pressed the record button and settled back in her chair. "I've already researched the details of your accident, but I'd like to hear it from you in your own words." She poised her pen over her notebook and waited.

Roger looked a bit lost. "I was working on that new apartment building down 51st street. We were moving in dry wall sheets, and there was a crane moving bricks up to the upper floors. Fireplaces, you know," he waved his good hand aimlessly. Lois nodded her understanding. "There's a hob—homeless guy who panhandles nearby, see him every day. One of the crew lost control and dropped their drywall, and the crane lifting bricks had a new driver, a kid, he didn't know any better. He tried to back up to avoid the drywall sheets and the bricks up top started to swing. The stress was too much and the load fell. It was going to fall right on the homeless guy. So I ran and pushed him out of the way. He came out okay, but I wasn't fast enough and the bricks crushed my hand." Roger twitched his bandaged hand and looked down at it. As Lois watched, something indefinable slipped across his face and was gone. It was at odds with what she would expect to see. She could feel the familiar feeling that there was more to a story and mentally grounded herself into classic investigative journalist mode. She gave Roger one of her nonthreatening smiles to put him at ease. But she also leaned forward slightly as she did it.

"So how is it? Your hand?"

Roger gave a mild shrug. "It hurts. They're giving me painkillers. It'll never be the same again, of course. Got crushed pretty bad. Worst part is my wrist it's real bad. The docs are worried about blood flow. If they can't keep it moving right in the hand and all the way to the fingers I might lose it."

"You might lose your hand?" Roger nodded in reply. Lois made note of his lack of expression regarding it. "And how do you feel about that?"

"It's fine. Better than that guy getting killed." Roger gave her a half smile, but his lips trembled slightly.

"Is it?" Lois threw out the jolting question, hoping to shake him up and break something loose. Something was lurking, and she wanted to know what it was.

It worked. Roger gave her a shocked look mingled with disgust. "Of course it is! You think he doesn't matter?"

"But you may lose your hand."

"Maybe that's just something I deserv —" Roger's voice dropped out abruptly, but it was too late. He frowned at the foot of the bed, pressing his lips shut in a vain attempt to recall the words. Lois honed in on him, eyes piercing, debating her next move. Once she decided it, she leaned back in her chair and affected a more relaxed, disarming demeanor.

"I just have one more question, Roger." She allowed her words to sink in and watched as Roger visibly relaxed, thinking he was almost out of the woods. He gave her a nod of acceptance and waited.

Lois crossed her legs, still keeping it relaxed. "You said the homeless man was panhandling near the build site?"

There was the tiniest of pauses before Roger confirmed it cautiously. "Yes."

Lois gave him a direct look and spoke with razor sharp precision, zeroing in on her target. "Aren't most build sites blocked off by some kind of fence or barrier to keep the general public out, specifically so they don't get harmed? Why would a homeless man be on the site, was he asking the crew for money?"

Roger stared at her, jaw somewhat slack. She could see surprise and the realization that she'd tricked him cross his face, followed by a myriad of mini-decisions deciding how to handle it. Finally he let out a snorting grumpy sigh, mingled with one word.

"Reporters."

Lois gave him a small smile.

Roger sighed. "He panhandles on the corner at the end of the block, not the build site."

Lois nodded, a tiny motion. "So why was he there?"

Roger was looking at his toes. "I gave him a dollar."

"When?"

"That morning, on my way to work." He looked so ashamed Lois took a moment to process the answer.

"You gave him a dollar." It was a nudge, to get him talking again.

"Yeah." Roger took a shuddering breath and looked at the ceiling first before glancing her way again. "He was so happy. So grateful. He talks to himself you know, mutters. It always made me avoid him. I don't think he's quite right in the head..." Roger descended into silence. Lois noted his shallow breaths. "He came on the site. He was calling to me. Like I was his friend or something, saying thank you," he cleared his throat quickly. "That's how it happened. He distracted the guy with the sheet rock, it fell in front of the crane and the driver backed up so the bricks fell. He was right under them. I pushed him out of the way."

There was a sheen in Roger's eyes now, unshed emotions catching the light. Lois waited, hoping Roger would feel pressured by the silence and move to fill it. He did, his face crumpling as words rushed out.

"I mean it's a dollar, you know? I gave him a dollar. What can you even buy with that nowadays, not even coffee at Starbucks. And he looked at me like I was his savior, his best friend. I left so fast. I didn't give him a chance to say much. And so he came to—he wanted to thank me, and it almost got him killed." Roger shook his head, rubbing his good hand over his grizzled cheeks. He heaved a sigh, exerting self control not to cry.

Sympathy was clear on her face. "And you think that's your fault?"

Roger nodded, eager to clarify his guilt. "I've been working this build site for four months. And five days a week, I walked past this guy and I didn't even look at him. I always kept walking. It wasn't my problem. He made me nervous. Maybe if I'd talked to this guy before now, or helped him a little, if I had just stayed a little longer instead of running away, he wouldn't have been so damn excited that he had to come and find me. He wouldn't have put himself in danger." Roger shook his head and looked away. He looked as if he had just lost size, smaller in his bed but somehow more real. The shaky sigh that left him seemed like it been been waiting a long time.

Lois kept her voice soft. "What changed? Why now, after four months?"

He lifted his head. "Him."

"Him. The homeless man?"

Roger shook his head and gave her a look that made him seem like a small boy all of a sudden, embarrassed and proud all at once. "Superman."

She stared at him, a sudden lump in her throat. Her voice emerged as a whisper of itself. "Superman."

Roger noted her sudden change but didn't question it. "Ever since he died, I've been thinking. About helping people, making a difference. Had to start somewhere."

She swallowed. "But you — Mr. Petersen, you're not an alien. You don't have super strength —"

His voice overpowered hers, suddenly passionate. "That doesn't matter. All my life I've only looked out for me and my family. No one else. And this guy — an alien — cares about us so much that he gets killed? I can't look another human in the eye because I think he's dangerous or something, mankind is hating each other, always fighting...and he still cared? I can't look at myself anymore if I don't change." Roger looked at her, suddenly much more sure of himself.

"My son is a teacher, and he came over for dinner last weekend. He told me about what he's teaching the kids in his class now. They're talking about him. The kids want to be like him — not strong and be able to fly — they want to help, give hope." He made a gesture with his hands, as if trying to get his thoughts into words. "Ms. Lane, he's helping us still. I feel like those kids. I'm not made like him, but I can be like him." He raised his bandaged hand to draw her eyes to it. "And if I lose my hand because I was helping someone, I still haven't done as much as he did."

Lois was afraid to blink, sure that if she did the tears she refused to let fall would escape. They shone in the light, ever present as she looked down at her empty notepad, her thoughts full of Clark. Finally she managed to regain complete control and reach for Roger's good hand.

"Superman would be proud."

* * *

When Lois finished the interview and left Metropolis General, she didn't take a cab back to the Daily Planet as she usually would. Instead she stood outside the hospital and took in the people around her. A man was helping a woman lift her stroller and baby up some stairs, since she had come the wrong way and missed the ramp. Lois smiled a little looking at the scene.

The bus stop caught her eye and she got on the first one that arrived. It was late in the day and many were headed home from work or going somewhere else for the evening. Lois rode in silence and watched, fingering the familiar but still new ring on her left hand. She'd been reaching to shake Roger's good hand before she left when he noted it, it caught the light as she clutched her notebook and pen.

"That's a nice ring, Ms. Lane. Congratulations, he's a lucky guy." Roger smiled warmly at her.

Lois couldn't prevent the slightly sad smile that formed, but she covered it quickly. "He's one of a kind, Mr. Peterson."

Lois watched the sunlight glint off the diamond. The bus moved through Metropolis, the breaks in between sky scrapers giving the light a flickering effect as it shone into the bus and on the passengers there. There was a man with white teeth and loud laughter, joking with his friend in the back. But he quickly offered his seat to an older lady as she got on. There were smiles shared between strangers. A mother leaned over to compliment a young woman, who in turn smiled and complimented the woman's child. Sunlight played as the child looked up, bright-eyed, from the drawing clutched in small hands. Lois tilted her head to look at it.

The grimy bus windows diffused the sun and scattered warm drops of light on a childishly drawn but recognizable shield, gold with a prominent red S.

Lois complimented the child's picture too.

Lois had no destination in mind, but when the bus pulled up at the newly re-opened Heroes Park, now cleared of the rubble and what used to be Superman's monument, she got out. There were strolling couples and joggers moving in and out of the wide space. Flowers and mementos remained, scattered around the new plaque. Lois knew it was there, she had written the story for it. But she hadn't been back since. She sat on a nearby bench and surveyed the public. What was clearly a youth group teacher had a cluster of pre-teens gathered nearby, and from the look on her face she was earnestly exhorting them to do good. A family moved past and the children dropped individual flowers next to the words written under the plaque. As they left, the youngest turned to an older sibling and Lois could barely make out their words.

"...does 'look around you' mean?" The sibling rolled his eyes but answered as they walked. Behind her, a man was giving detailed information on the food bank he wanted to open and getting an exuberant reception.

Lois sat amid citizens of Metropolis and lost track of time. She had lived in this city for so long, and she knew what it felt like. It was a big city and it had a typical big city feel. People moving about their business, not really paying attention to anyone else. But now there was something else. This was new. This was different. Metropolis seemed to be brimming with goodwill. She'd been too wrapped up in Clark's loss, too isolated to notice.

The sun moved lower in the sky, bathing the park in light before slowly receding. Lois felt its warming rays seep into her body. It brought back memories of Clark, standing in the sun. She had watched him too many times to count as he closed his eyes and lifted his head, seeming to drink in the sun and gain strength with every passing second. And Lois knew that she was a human and had no claim to Krypton physiology, but she felt that this time the sun was enriching her in his absence, lending her a much needed strength before it slipped away for the night. For the first time since she had walked away from his coffin, it felt like Clark was near her somehow. She played with the diamond ring, watching it sparkle. A memory surfaced. Clark's beautiful blue eyes sparkling. Him shyly glancing at her over a table in the interrogation room so long ago, and the smile as he told her that on his world, the S meant hope.

The warmth of the sun reached deep inside her, and Lois felt the cold numbness inside her begin to fade. Clark hadn't left her. He was all around Metropolis. And she knew that everything was still far from okay, but for the first time she felt that one day, maybe it could be.

She had hope.

On the way home, she noticed the building she and Clark had once passed. It was a shelter for battered women and their children. He had scanned the walls and lamented that the paint had lead in it. It would take money and time to remove it and make the shelter safer, and he was sure the shelter staff didn't have either. He had been working on a way to take care of it before she went to Africa. But after that so much had happened she was sure he had never managed to. She made a note in her notebook to look into it and write a story.

She'd take care of that first before she wrote the next story clearing Superman's name.

* * *

It was two weeks later that Lois entered her apartment after a long day and put her bag down to remove her coat. Halfway through the motion, she froze. Something was wrong. There was a smell that shouldn't be there, and the light pattern coming through the windows was different. She reached into her pocket for her keys, the closest thing to a weapon she could manage until she got into the kitchen. But before she could flip on the light a distorted voice spoke from the shadows.

"It's me."

Lois gave a strangled exclamation and jolted with surprise, adrenaline flooding her system. Almost immediately irritation set in just as quickly. "Why do you have to hide? I have a doorbell."

Batman stepped from the dark corner, the the dim light entering the windows moving around his dark form. He approached her and as he did light fell on his cowled face. "It's safer this way."

Lois took a breath to slow her hammering heart. He was a large and looming presence, but she wasn't afraid of this man anymore. "What do you want?" She hadn't seen him since the funeral. With Superman dead, she wasn't sure what reason he might have to visit her. She hadn't seen Diana again either, though she was now almost positive she'd spotted her on the street a few days ago. Were they watching her?

Batman held up a thumb drive and stepped closer. "I need your help locating the people on this drive. It's important we find them." He held it out to her. Lois took it slowly, thinking.

"Why me? Surely you have the resources to handle this? You don't need a journalist to help you."

His mouth twitched in the briefest of expressions, his eyes glinting in the dark cowl. "I'd like you to be in on this. It might make all the difference in the future."

She frowned at him, running her thumb over the drive. "Does this have something to do with Clark?"

"I don't know yet. All I know is that we need to locate these people as soon as possible."

Despite his enigmatic delivery, Lois could see that he meant it. He really wanted her to help. In spite of herself, curiosity spiked. She nodded her assent.

"Good." His shoulders seemed to relax some. Lois waited for him to leave, wondering if he'd use the front door or go out the window. But instead he just stood there, suddenly awkward. She waited.

"How's Martha?"

Lois hid her surprise quickly. "She's managing. I called her a few days ago. She'll be okay, she's strong."

His head lowered in acknowledgment and his gaze suddenly lingered, caught by the framed pictures on the end table next to the couch. Clark was hugging Martha, his smile bright and brilliant. Lois and Clark, heads tipped together. Soft smiles and happy faces. Lois hid a pang of loss. Batman looked at them a moment longer before he seemed to suddenly collect himself. He turned to Lois.

"Your fridge is almost empty. You need to take care of yourself."

Lois looked at her fridge in surprise. "I've been busy. And Clark did most of the cook—" she cut off abruptly when she looked back. He was gone. She would have been more annoyed at his abrupt departure, but her look at the fridge had also told her what the unfamiliar smell was. She walked to the kitchen counter and looked down at the bag of take-out sitting there. It was still warm when she felt it. It smelled delicious. Her mouth watering, Lois took it to the table and got her laptop out of her bag as she tried not to imagine how a grown man dressed as bat had obtained it.

She was sitting at the table, chewing a mouthful of food, when she glanced at the pictures too. Clark smiled back at her. She couldn't stop her lips from curving in reply, if still a bit sadly. She still missed him. She fingered her ring before she picked up her fork again. Clark used to make this dish. She wondered if Batman knew that.

"Don't worry Clark, yours is still better." She addressed her remark to his smiling face, but she did take another bite. She was starving. Her eyes fell on the thumb drive and curiosity piqued again. Batman was looking for people. She simply couldn't resist plugging it in.

No time like the present. Time to find out what the future had in store for her. And thanks to Clark, she had hope enough to face it.

The computer screen illuminated her face as she considered three files, each with a different symbol. She chose the first one in line, a lightning bolt, then hovered the cursor over it.

And clicked.

* * *

* * *

I know this ends as if it's going somewhere, sorry. It's meant to be open ended, a lead-in to Justice League Part 1. This was meant to be a one shot and I don't have plans to continue it. If I was suddenly inspired I might, but I have a lot going on at the moment so I doubt it at this point in time. But we have time before the next movie so who knows! Thanks for reading!

ETA: This is now a multi-chapter story, still a bridge to Justice League and I hope it doesn't ruin the message of this first chapter too much. :)  I don't pretend that this is going to be nearly as awesome as the actual Justice League part 1 will be, but it is a nice way for my brain to deal with the wait. Hopefully it will be for you too.

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The search for three metahumans is on, but Lois ends up with someone else she needs to find even more. Batman is secretive and enigmatic. (Shock, I know.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well this started as a one-shot but then my brain wouldn't leave it alone and added more story. I don't anticipate it to be more than several chapters long, but I have to say it feels weird to add on to it. Hopefully you'll think it's worth it! Thanks for the positive feedback on what is now the first chapter, and thanks for reading, hope you enjoy it. :)

**Eight Months Later**

The parking garage was dark and mostly empty as Lois moved through it, her heels clicking quietly with every echoed step. She threw a quick look behind her and found no one, but still clutched her bag a little tighter as she located section 3B. Once she arrived she only had to wait a few moments before a nervous figure in a hoodie emerged from behind a pillar and drifted to her side.

"I could get in serious trouble for this." The figure's voice was thin and reedy, betraying his nerves.

Lois nodded but gave him a direct look. "I know. Thank you, Dan. Do you have it?"

The figure shifted. "You need to swear to me this won't get out."

"I already told you I won't print it."

"Then why do you need it?"

"It's complicated."

Dan shoved his hands deeper into his pockets. "I don't want to get fired for this. But also, I can't stand feeling guilty about it if something bad happens."

Lois hesitated, sensing deeper meaning. "What do you mean?"

Dan's eyes flickered up to meet her face briefly, then stared at the dirty pavement. "I—are you sure this is a good idea? This guy stops a lot of crime where I live. He's saved lives. He's probably a nice guy who just wants to help. Like Superman. Or maybe he's a bear we could poke and really piss off. How do you know? Maybe it's just better to leave things alone."

"Dan, we've been over this already. This is important. I need to find him."

Dan grimaced and hunched his shoulders, still staring at the ground. Finally he got the nerve to say what was really on his mind. "I don't want to be responsible for some guy's death. If I hear anything like that, I'll tell everyone. I don't care what happens to me."

Her mouth curved in a tiny but sad smile. Dan was lucky it was her he was dealing with. Lex Luthor probably would have killed him for being this reluctant. Or arranged for a convenient bombing to cover up his actions. "I don't think anyone I'm dealing with has intentions to hurt him."

Dan gazed back at her doubtfully. "Are you sure?" His hands pushed into his pockets again.

Lois pushed away the mental image of Batman looming over Clark holding a Kryptonite spear. It wasn't like that anymore. "Yes." She shrugged. "Pretty sure."

Dan scrutinized her face, and what he saw there made him relax somewhat. "Okay. I hope I don't regret this." He pulled a thumb drive from his pocket. Lois waited while he wrestled with his conscience one more time, then he placed it in her palm.

"Thank you, Dan." She wrapped her fingers around it and slid it into her own pocket. He nodded and walked away quickly, almost rushing to get away from any possible consequences. She waited for him to disappear from sight before she raised her voice.

"This is the third time you've shadowed me this week. If you want me in on this you should trust me a little."

A beat passed, and then a black figure dropped from the ceiling and landed behind a car. Batman's eyes flickered in the dim light, otherwise he was almost hidden in the shadows. Lois crossed her arms. "Where's Diana? I noticed her following me quite a bit too."

A rumbling altered voice emerged from the shadows of his corner. "She's...in the Atlantic."

Lois nodded. Diana was probably pursuing the water-dwelling metahuman then, though almost eight months of dogged searching had yielded very little on that front. Lois had finally managed to get a lead on the possible city the one with super speed lived in, and the records that she was sure existed for the robotic one were sealed behind the impenetrable wall of the military. They certainly weren't going to talk. She was still looking for a weak spot on that point, and it looked like Batman was doing the same on his end.

But if he was busy following her it seemed that he didn't trust that she'd share whatever she did find. It was irksome on many different levels. "Why are you following me to every meeting I have?"

"You didn't say anything before." He was dodging the point, she could tell. He was good, but she'd seen it too many times as a journalist.

"If you want to learn more about possible corruption inside the mayor's office then follow me all you want." Lois watched his head tilt ever so slightly, a concession that at least one visit he'd eavesdropped on had lacked any information he was actually looking for.

"How did you know?" He was trying to divert her from her original question. If she wasn't so annoyed she'd appreciate how deftly he managed to do it. She could see why no one ever suspected Bruce Wayne of being the Batman. He was very good at making people underestimate him.

Her head tilted, slightly amused. "I found out Clark's identity before he ever told me. I can tell when a bat is following me." She waited for him to reply, noting that even six feet tall in solid black he somehow still looked like a small boy who knew he was in trouble. When he didn't reply, she continued. Might as well tackle it headfirst. "I'm sure you saw that Dan finally gave me something real this time."

He held out his hand. "Thank you. This should help."

She didn't move. "Not so fast. I want to see what's on it first."

There was an awkward pause before he conceded. "Fine."

But she could tell that he wasn't very happy about it. "Why did you bring me into this if you don't trust me enough to share information with me?"

He shifted uncomfortably, aware that trying to divert her again wouldn't work. "It's not about trust."

"Isn't it? Looks that way."

"I trust you. But there's a lot more to this than it seems."

"If you trust me, enlighten me some."

She waited without any real hope that he would comply, and she was right. He looked at her a moment and then stepped back, preparing to leave. "Be careful going home. It's late." And with that enigmatic request, he melted into darkness.

Lois shook her head, still annoyed. Getting answers out of him was like talking to a stump. Not for the first time she wished Clark was home waiting for her. As quiet as Clark had been he was always open to her and she missed their easy conversations, the open honesty between them. It had been eight months since he died, and she still missed him. She shouldered her bag and headed home.

* * *

Their apartment was dark and quiet. Very little had changed since Clark's death, Lois spent so much time working and looking for metahumans that she hadn't given much thought to clearing out Clark's things. Sometimes she had a moment of overwhelming grief when she opened their closet and spied his shirts and suit jackets hanging next to her own clothes. It was then she'd think to herself that she really did need to do something about it. Getting rid of the constant reminders would probably help ease the pain of his loss. But then she would leave for work and get caught up in an investigation for a story, or follow a lead on the metahumans, and nothing would change. She tried not to dwell too much on it, because if she did she might have to admit she didn't want to get rid of his things. That would shut the door on a period of her life she didn't want to see closed. It was the same reason she still wore the engagement ring. People who noticed were confused by it because she clearly wasn't engaged, but she didn't want to explain it either. So she just kept working.

Since she'd already had dinner, Lois changed and went to bed. She had adjusted to sleeping alone again after eight months, and she pushed herself so hard she usually fell right asleep. Tonight was no exception.

Her phone ringing on the nightstand woke her the next morning. She rubbed her eyes before she checked to see who it was, but once she saw who was calling she answered immediately. "Hi Martha, how are you doing?" She laid back on her pillow, ready to hear details about the previous week. They talked at least on a weekly basis if not more. Martha still worked swing shifts at the diner and called Lois often after her morning walk.

But this time, there was empty line where Martha's voice should have been. "Martha?"

The sound of stifled sobs came over the line. "Lo—Lois. I'm sorry to bother you."

"What's wrong?" Lois sat up in bed, now very worried.

"I—I walked up to the cemetery, like I do every day, to see Clark." Lois nodded, waiting for the rest. "But today," Martha was weeping openly now, Lois could tell even over the phone. "He was gone! Someone came and took him!" Martha broke down into sobs.

Lois sat utterly still, a hollow ache spreading out from her core. Someone had taken Clark's body. Never had she considered that. Never had she thought that she could feel worse than she did when she realized he was dead and cradled his head on her lap. But this was so much worse. The utter disrespect, the violation of it, made her want to throw up. Someone had desecrated Clark's final resting place, and who knew what they would do with his remains.

Martha's sobbing made its way through the shock and disbelief, and Lois pulled herself together. "Call the police. Report it right away, I'll be there as fast as I possibly can."

"Okay," Martha had probably already realized she should call the police, but she sounded as if just having another woman to talk to about it was helpful. They needed each other so much now.

Lois was dressed and throwing a few things into a leather bag in minutes. She looked for her keys as she dialed a number and put her phone to her ear, holding it with a shoulder while she fastened a shoe. The phone had barely rung when it was answered.

"Lois? Did you find something?" Bruce Wayne sounded wide awake. She wondered if he ever slept.

"Bruce I need to get to Smallville as fast as possible, right now."

"Is Martha all right? What happened?" She could hear his voice change instantly, immediately clipped and ready for action. It was somewhat reassuring, but she really didn't want to get into it until she knew more. Just saying it out loud was beyond her right now, not while she was still processing the horror of it.

"I'll tell you more when I get there. She's okay right now but I need to be there fast." She was now fully dressed and ready to go, grabbing her bag and coat and heading for the front door before she even had the thought that Bruce might refuse if she didn't share more details. He still didn't seem to trust her.

Or maybe he did. "Go to my private airstrip, by the time you get there one of my planes will be ready to go. But I want to know what's going on once you arrive."

"Done." She rushed out her front door and headed down to the street to hail a cab.

* * *

Lois made it to Smallville in record time and paid the cab driver extra to rush, which was a fairly easy feat considering the lack of traffic. Once they pulled up to the Kent farm she paid the driver and rushed for the front door.

"Martha?"

Martha's tear-stained face appeared at the screen door, grief conflicting with surprise at how fast Lois had managed to travel there. She pushed open the door, and Lois made it to the top of the stairs before dropping her bag and wrapping her arms around the older woman. Martha returned the gesture and burst into tears. They held onto each other for dear life.

"How could someone do this? Why? Why won't they just leave him alone!" Martha's voice was riddled with anger and agony, a mother who had watched the world hate her son even as he sacrificed himself for it. Lois clutched her tighter.

"I don't know." Lois had spent much of the extremely short flight trying not to imagine why someone would dig up Clark Kent's body and steal it. It made her sick to think of it, but her mind was filled with awful possibilities. Lex Luthor had figured out Clark's true identity, was he somehow pulling the strings, even from behind bars? Who else knew? Was Clark's body going to be desecrated by people who hated him for being an alien, or turned into some kind of abomination that belied everything he stood for, everything he was? Was he going to be dissected and studied, treated like a lab experiment instead of the kind and gentle man that he had been? Lois could feel anger crystallizing into hatred for whoever had done this. She'd find them and make them pay.

She guided Martha to the porch steps and helped her sit down on the top one. She left an arm around her shoulders as they sat for a moment in silence, broken by the occasional sniffle from both ladies. Finally Lois spoke. "Did you call the police?"

"Yeah. They're up there now." Martha made a vague gesture behind her that Lois took to mean the small private cemetery a short distance away. She stood up and dusted off her slacks.

"I want to see what they find."

Martha stood up as well and wiped her eyes. "I'll go with you."

They each held the arm of the other on their way there, leaning on each other as they repeated the same route they had taken eight months ago following Clark's coffin. Lois tried not to think about how that coffin was empty now.

The cemetery was still when they arrived, except for the police vehicle and forensic van parked near Clark's grave. Lois could see a forensic expert working in the broken ground in front of Clark's gravestone and a police officer standing nearby. She and Martha stopped on the edge of the cemetery, and Lois stared at the grave site. The reality of seeing it with her own eyes was gut-wrenching. The earth was disturbed and broken where it should have been smooth and flat. She could feel the renewed anger building inside her. She wanted answers.

The ladies moved closer, and Lois craned her neck to see down into the hole that was now present over Clark's coffin. She could see shattered bits of wood and shreds of fabric. Someone had broken through the lid of the coffin and pulled Clark's body out. Lois had to fight the urge to scream.

"Ms. Lane, nice to see you again." She had been so distracted by the grave she hadn't noticed the police officer approaching them.

"Pete? Pete Ross?" She took his offered hand and shook it even as she stared at his face.

Pete's round face was suffused with sympathy, his red hair visible even under his hat. "I'm sorry we have to meet again under these circumstances. When Martha's call came in I made sure I took it." He gestured to the edge of the cemetery and began to escort them away from the scene.

Lois allowed it. She had seen what she needed to see. "I didn't know you'd become a police officer."

Pete smiled self consciously. "Yeah, about two years ago now. I needed a new job after the um, IHOP was wrecked and the chain decided not to rebuild. It just wasn't worth the money I guess. But it was a good thing, I decided I'd do something to help people."

There was a lot of hidden meaning in his words, Lois realized. She hadn't seen him since she had found him at the IHOP to ask him about being saved as a kid, back when she was still tracking down the identity of her mysterious hero. Back before Smallville had become ground zero of an alien invasion and subsequent military battle. Clark had mentioned seeing Pete at the IHOP after he tackled Faora. It was one of the reasons he had been trounced so thoroughly, he was distracted by someone he knew. Lois had gleaned from her interview that Pete knew far more than he was telling when she questioned him, and he had pointed her to Martha as a way to avoid being involved. It was a fair bet that Pete knew who Superman really was and had been sitting on that information most of his life. She appreciated that, even as she wondered if he had finally been induced to talk to the wrong person. She shook off the suspicion as she nodded and smiled back. Martha was giving him a fond look at her side.

Lois gestured to the grave behind Pete. "Do you know anything yet?"

Pete shook his head. "We don't get much action in Smallville, as you can guess. Well, except for two years ago. We had to call in the forensics expert from the neighboring town, he moonlights over here to help us out. There's just not enough work for a full time one here. He got here and started an hour ago, and I think he might be done soon. So far no fibers or other leads. But we'll do everything we can."

The women nodded, and Martha asked Pete about his own mother to bridge the silence. Lois reached for her phone but decided to wait on calling Bruce until she had more information. She did notice a missed call from Diana and a text from Bruce asking if she'd landed. She slid the phone back into her pocket as the forensic expert called Pete over to the scene. She and Martha watched from a distance as the expert, now in the hole that had been documented and then widened so he could investigate more, handed up something to Pete and made several motions to help describe what he was saying.

Pete returned several minutes later with the strangest look Lois had ever seen. It made her nervous.

"What?"

He stood for a few moments, collecting his thoughts, before he handed Martha a somewhat crumpled picture. Martha took it and recognized the one she had placed in the coffin before they buried him, Jonathan and a young Clark smiling together. Her mouth quivered but she took it with murmured thanks.

Lois swallowed, fearing the worst. "What did he find?"

Pete looked at her, then Martha, then back at the grave where the forensic expert was finishing up. Lois watched his face screw up as if he didn't even know how to make the words for this. Finally he spoke. "According to his findings, no one broke into that grave."

Martha and Lois stared at him. Martha spoke first. "Yes they did. I saw it this morning, it's empty."

Pete nodded vigorously. "Yes, yes it is. But the way the earth is disturbed, and how the breakage of the coffin is all on the outside, it indicates more that...someone _broke out_." He gave them a look loaded with questions as he waited for it to sink in.

Lois gasped. Was that even possible? She looked at Martha, who looked to be thinking the exact same thoughts. They knew little about Kryptonian biology when it came right down to it. They knew how being on earth affected Clark's body, and they knew what powers came from it. But they had no idea if his alien genetic makeup could combat death and bring him back from the grave.

But suddenly it wasn't outside the realm of possibility anymore. Because that grave was decidedly empty. And if the forensic evidence was right, someone had left it on their own.

Lois immediately went into the mode she hadn't used for eight months: Protect Clark's identity. She moved closer to Pete and lowered her voice. "Pete, is there any way to keep this quiet while we investigate on our own? We need to find out what really happened and if...if he might be alive."

Just saying it out loud sounded too good to be true. Martha had her hands up against her chest, almost in prayer position. They both gave Pete a beseeching look.

Pete glanced behind him at the other man, looking nervous. "I can't stop him from filing his report. And I can't falsify a document." Martha looked as if she might middle name him any moment, so he rushed his last sentence slightly. "But I do think I'm distracted enough I might accidentally mis-file it. It could be lost for a long time, if it ever gets found."

Lois breathed in relief. "Thank you."

Pete smiled and moved back to the grave.

Martha and Lois headed back down the road, their minds scrambling with questions. The possibilities were overwhelming, and while it sounded like good news, Clark still wasn't anywhere to be seen.

"Why wouldn't he come home? Why would he just leave?"

Lois patted Martha's arm. "I'm sure there must be a good reason."

But she was wondering the same thing. If Clark had resurrected during the night he could have made it to their apartment easily before she left. Where would he go that was more important? Where could he be?

* * *

**The Night Before**

He woke, cocooned in quiet darkness. It was intensely dark, for a moment he felt blind. Everything was cold and still. Even he was still, lying on his back with his arms crossed over his chest in an impossibly tight space. He stayed that way for a few moments, confused, before he finally became aware of the signals his body was sending. He couldn't breathe very well.

The air was stale and suffocating, his lungs tight and constricted. He needed to breathe. Now.

He barely felt the paper crumpling next to him as he thrashed and contorted, trying to find his way out. He felt weak and limp, but all the same he lifted an arm as much as he could in the cramped darkness and pounded on the top of his prison, soft padding and fabric masking a harder layer. It did minimal damage. He pounded harder, even though he felt like he had little strength to do it. He was grunting with effort, the sound muffled in the padded cell. It only increased his discomfort and his efforts intensified, pounding harder and harder until he broke a fist through the top layer.

But his relief was short lived. Still in utter blackness, dirt began to fall in through the hole he had made, threatening to fill his already minimal space. Panic began to take over. Both fists raised and pounded now, his entire body thrashing and lurching upward until finally he propelled himself through wood, fabric, and six feet of earth. His frantic fingers felt cool air as he grappled with the broken ground and pulled himself upwards. Slowly his head emerged, then shoulders as he pushed with all his might, a harsh cry escaping with the effort. He put two fists in the air and surged upward with a guttural sound only to find himself suddenly airborne as he shot up into the sky. He easily cleared the small grove of trees and fence, trailing a shower of dirt as he went. He sailed for almost a quarter mile. Air rushed over his sweating face, creating a calming feeling, until he lost momentum and fell like a rock. He crashed to the earth and bounced, skidded, rolled, tearing up plants in neat rows and finally coming to rest sixty feet away.

He lay there, still in darkness, too weak to do anything but gulp in lungfuls of air. Had he the strength, he might have cried. His body was infused with pain, weak and floppy. He could feel the intense effort his escape had cost him, stripping him of already sparse power and energy. He felt weighed down by the world itself as he gazed up at the night sky, full of stars.

He found enough strength to blink soil from his eyes and vaguely shake his head to dislodge any in his hair. But it took several more minutes before he could move again. He staggered to his feet, swaying and tripping as he moved further into the vegetation that surrounded him. It was shorter than him but he was so bent over that it felt like it could swallow him up as he moved into it, providing a calm protective feeling. Like a blanket. He trudged on, his muscles quivering with effort.

He made it another hundred yards before he collapsed.

* * *

When he woke next it was daybreak. Sun was streaming down into the field where he lay. It warmed his body. He briefly closed his eyes again, breathing deep. He could feel his body gaining strength, however minimally, with every passing second.

Eventually he stood, still wobbly and weak, and surveyed his surroundings.

Green and gold stretched as far as the eye could see in every direction. He squinted, feeling that he should be able to see even farther, but his eyesight remained 20/20 at best. He let that thought go as a tickling new one teased his mind. He should know this place.

The stalks surrounding him were tall but they still only came up to his hips. He reached out a hand with a mild curiosity to finger the head of one, running it through his fingers.

"Wheat," he murmured in faint surprise as the word rose unbidden to his lips. The heads were still vertical; not bowed as they should be if they were ready for harvest. So it wasn't ready. The extra coolness of the morning indicated that it wasn't the height of summer. This was winter wheat, kernels sowed in the winter and allowed to rest until they grew in early spring. Usually harvested in May through early July, which allowed farmers to plant in the same field twice and gain an extra crop for the season. Judging by the immaturity of the kernels he was rolling between two fingers, it had been an extra harsh winter and they had gotten a slow start. They weren't fully mature yet. That meant it was...late April or May?

Again, he was surprised the information rose to the front of his mind so easily.

Reaching out both hands to brush his palms over the softly waving fronds, his eye caught the sleeve of the jacket he was wearing. Like a baby with no memory retention, he was immediately distracted by it and looked down at himself.

He was wearing slacks and a basic dark blue suit jacket. Slightly worn but in good shape, painstakingly pressed, probably clean before he had pushed through a wall of dirt. Now it was decidedly worse for wear, missing a few buttons and sporting a tear in a shoulder seam. He straightened it as best he could and dusted himself off, idly noting it to be strange that he would feel so at home in such a location considering his clothes were wrong for it.

He was running his hands down the front of his jacket to check for any loose dirt when he felt a hard ridge through the folds of fabric. Curious, he located the inner pocket and withdrew a pair of black-framed glasses. He recognized what they were for, though when he lifted his gaze to check his vision again it seemed perfectly fine. He hesitated, then slid the glasses in place over his nose. His eyesight remained unchanged. He took them back off again.

"Glass." They were simple glass lenses. No prescription at all. Odd. But he still felt compelled to put them back on. It felt right. He searched his remaining pockets and found every one empty. No wallet, no keys. His jacket felt padded somehow though, especially in the back. But again that thought was lost as he took in his surroundings with more consideration.

Now that he felt put back together, it didn't seem to make sense to stand here any more. He turned in various directions, scouting for landmarks. Nothing looked familiar. He could see some grain silos and some trees in the distance, what might be a barn and a farmhouse even further on, but everything else was field stretching out to the horizon. He was debating heading to the farmhouse to ask for help when a glint of moving light caught his eye.

The sun was reflecting off a car moving along what must be a road two fields away. It seemed as good a move as any, and slightly familiar. He carefully picked his way through rows of crops, careful not to ruin any, as he headed for the highway.

Ten minutes and three cars later, a semi-truck hauling a trailer rumbled to a stop going in the opposite direction. A bearded but friendly face leaned out of the open driver's side window, taking in his clothes and looking around curiously, obviously expecting to see a broken down car somewhere.

"Where ya headed?"

He opened his mouth to reply, and realized he had no idea. "I'm not sure," he offered with a smile.

The driver laughed. "I guess none of us really knows, do we? That's as good an answer as any. I can take you as far as I'm going if you want."

"Thank you." He moved to the passenger side and pulled open the door. He was settling himself in, just fastening his seat belt, when the driver leaned over with an extended hand.

"I'm Paul. Nice to meet you..." his voice trailed off, waiting for a name to be offered. But one didn't come. Instead an awkward pause filled the cab as the newcomer took his hand but failed to reply, frowning in concentration. Paul moved to fill the silence. "I'm not bothered if you don't wanna tell me your name, we all feel the need to protect ourselves. But I gotta call you something, so I'm gonna call you Hank, is that good?"

The newly dubbed Hank nodded with a grateful look. "Sounds fine."

"All right then." Paul shifted gears and started driving, letting his new companion stare out the window for a while.

Hank watched the fields roll by, disturbed by the realization that he didn't know his own name. And even now, with every passing second, he couldn't shake the feeling that he was missing something vitally important. He realized he was tense now, muscles pulled taut and his fist clenched tighter and tighter around the door handle until a small cracking sound alerted him he was exerting too much force. He immediately let go and forced his muscles to relax. Maybe it would come to him in time. Maybe he just needed to recuperate more. He could still feel the weakness dragging at his body, in spite of the sun pouring in through the window. When Paul offered him a granola bar he gladly accepted.

The semi drove on, leaving Smallville and its surrounding farms miles behind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And we're up and running! I hope to have the next chapter done soon. Thanks for reading! :)


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everyone's looking for Clark, and he just wants some peace.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all the support guys. :) We get some Diana in this chapter!

Bruce sat at his computer station and brooded at the lack of search results. Every few moments he glanced at his phone and contemplated calling Lois to demand details. He didn't like being out of the loop. He'd already searched for anything relating to Martha Kent in Smallville and come up empty. Sooner or later a police report had to be filed if there was one, but in such a small town he wouldn't be surprised if it was something officers did at the end of the day. Everyone knew everyone there.

His pilot had already reported back that he dropped Lois Lane at the nearest tiny airstrip outside Smallville and helped her get a taxi, which was not an easy thing in such a small town. She had been heading to the Kent farm, which Bruce had already guessed. He ran a search again. Nothing. He felt powerless, and that was not something he liked or was ever used to.

"Problem?" Diana entered the room, back from the Atlantic and looking cool as ever in a linen suit and heels. As usual, she could size him up in very little time, which he always found uncomfortable.

The click of heels as she crossed the room was still a foreign sound to him, considering he'd only allowed Diana access and knowledge about his hideout three months ago. It was still a strange thing after years of only Alfred's footsteps. Alfred had been delighted to see a woman enter the inner sanctum, though he had become decidedly less so after he observed Bruce and Diana work day and night looking for leads. His hopes that Bruce might take a step back from his nighttime activities had clearly been dashed. Bruce always took note of Alfred's heavy sighs but never responded to them.

Diana moved behind his chair and scanned the computer screens. "Smallville. Is Martha all right?"

Bruce tabbed through his research, bringing up Lois' cell phone records. "She called Lois this morning, and Lois wanted to be there as fast as possible. I sent her on one of my planes. She was supposed to call me when she got there and tell me what's going on."

Diana frowned at the screen. "I tried to call her twenty minutes ago but she did not answer."

"Maybe I should get on a plane myself." Bruce checked his phone again.

Diana moved around so that she could lean on the counter and really see Bruce's face. She held her silence just long enough for him to become aware of it. It broke through his contemplation and forced him to look up at her, just as she wanted. When she actually had his attention she chose her words carefully.

"Maybe you should wait for Lois to ask for your help." She gave him that look that implied she was laughing at him on the inside, which didn't help his mood.

"Maybe she's not able to ask. She should have called by now."

Diana gave him a slightly patronizing but understanding smile. "You don't think she can take care of herself?"

"I think she doesn't have any special skills or training, and I'm pretty sure she's not an Amazon." He gave her a laconic smile, to which she nodded acknowledgment.

"My mother told me one of the most important weapons a warrior should have is a brain." Hearing that, Bruce scowled at the keyboard. Diana continued, unperturbed. "Lois has a good brain. If she thought she was walking into trouble she would have asked you to come already. She can take care of herself."

Bruce resisted the impulse to point out the myriad of times Lois Lane had actually landed in trouble. He set his jaw as he thought about the multiple times Superman had rescued her from what would have been certain death. Though to her credit, she was as smart a woman as she was fearless. He measured his words carefully. Finally he verbalized his real concern.

"She could make or break the future. She could be the key to everything."

"I know."

Diana had heard this before. She clearly understood why he was so protective, even if she had issues with it. She leaned down and put a hand on his shoulder, murmuring low in his ear.

"But a key will never work if it can't find the lock. Don't hide it away." She gave him her classic smile, eyes bright, and moved away to pull up a chair at her own computer area Bruce had provided. "The Atlantic was a dead end, nothing to find." She began typing, bringing up files and notes.

Bruce almost envied her ability to go with the flow of what came. That was beyond him. Preparation was key. Even now his computer was set up to hack NASA regularly at random intervals, looking for any sign out of the ordinary, anything approaching. It was just one more way to catch the future he feared one more second before it occurred. His priorities were always at the forefront. He needed to find the metahumans and he needed to keep Lois Lane safe. And Martha. He owed them that much, and Lois could be vitally important later on.

His eyes flicked to his phone again just as it began ringing. He had it up to his ear in an instant, purposely ignoring Diana's smug smile at her monitor. "Lois, what's happening?" He knew he sounded too intense, but the waiting had put him on edge.

Lois didn't even notice, considering her voice was just as intense. "Clark might be alive. And he's missing."

Of all the possible scenarios he expected to hear, that wasn't anywhere near them. "What?" His voice was still quiet but he shot to his feet, gaining Dina's immediate attention and startling Alfred who was just entering with a tray of iced tea for Diana. They both looked to him and waited in suspense.

Lois was still talking. "Martha called because Clark's body was missing, his grave was disturbed."

Bruce's mind reeled at that idea. The possible implications spelled bad news. He was already conjuring up a similar creature to Doomsday, created from another Kryptonian body. Tension grabbed hold, his jaw clenching, hand tightening on his phone, before he remembered the first thing she'd said. He might be alive... "It's empty?"

"Yes, but when the police looked at the grave forensics indicated someone did the damage leaving it, not breaking in." She paused to let that sink in, and Bruce was absorbing it like a dry sponge. It was impossible, but everything about Superman was. He would give anything for it to be true.

"Where is he?"

"We don't know. He never came back to the farm as far as we can tell, and he didn't come to the apartment before I left. Martha visits his grave every day and yesterday everything was normal so it had to have happened in the middle of the night."

Bruce blocked the mental image of Martha visiting her son's grave daily, it mingled too well with taking flowers to his mother's crypt. He breathed deep for a moment, collecting himself. Superman could fly. That complicated the issue at hand immensely. "He could be anywhere."

"I know," her voice was a clear indicator that she had considered this as well.

"I should —" His eyes flickered to Diana and away again. He cleared his throat. "Do you want me to come down and see what I can do?" Behind him, Alfred's eyebrows raised in clear surprise.

"I think we've got it managed on this end. See what you can find in Metropolis. Maybe he'll come back there."

Bruce nodded. It made sense. "That's the best strategy. Diana is back, we'll see what we can find."

"Thank you, Bruce." Lois sounded as if she'd had doubts that Bruce would actually help. But as focused as he was on finding the metahumans, this far eclipsed that goal for a multitude of reasons.

His voice was slightly gruff when he spoke next. "You're welcome. We'll find him, Lois."

"I hope so." He could tell she was holding in her worry, but his determined statement seemed to have made her feel better. Resolve was stealing through his veins. If there was any chance Superman was alive, the odds against whatever was coming had to be significantly improved.

After Bruce assured her his plane would wait and bring her back when she was ready, they said their goodbyes and hung up. Bruce slowly turned to face Diana and Alfred, still staring at his phone. Both looked impatient at this point. He gave them a somewhat blank look, but Alfred at least could see the unrelenting hope that he was trying to suppress.

"It appears that Clark Kent broke out of his own grave last night."

Both Diana and Alfred just stared at him for a moment. Alfred had seen so much in the last twenty years he thought nothing would surprise him, but this did the job very well. He put down the tray he was still holding, marveling at the idea. And how radically different this was from Bruce trying to kill the same man eight months ago.

Diana showed a quick look of surprise but accepted the news far easier. It only took a few moments of consideration before her thoughts went the same direction Bruce's had. "Where is he?"

Bruce gave her a level look. "Missing."

She nodded. She knew it already. "So he didn't go to the farm. Did he go to Metropolis?"

Bruce headed to his computer console. "That's what we need to find out." Diana followed his lead, grabbing her glass of iced tea on the way to hers.

Alfred watched in concern. He moved to Bruce's side and waited. As ever, Bruce knew what he wanted and tilted his head to indicate he was listening.

Alfred hesitated, glancing back at Diana already working. Another partner after all this time. Bruce had sworn never again. His gaze shifted back to Bruce, already pulling up anything that might help him locate an alien he had once wanted to kill. Now it was so they could work together, locate others who had abilities. Save the world. It was Bruce's new obsession, and it worried Alfred.

However. Bruce still drank, but not as badly as he had a year ago. Alfred was reasonably sure he still had nightmares, though whether they were the same ones or different Alfred couldn't tell. Bruce still brought a woman home now and again, after a fundraiser or party he attended for business or a good cause. But the steady stream had slowed, and Bruce was spending more and more time down here. In front of a computer. Working to save the world from some threat he couldn't even see.

Alfred deliberated. He had been starting to worry that Bruce was becoming overly paranoid after Doomsday and the battle of Metropolis, but maybe the worst paranoid days had already passed. Alfred had watched Bruce come as close as he ever had to complete self-destruction eight months ago, but he been able to pull back from the edge. Because of Superman. As driven as he was, Bruce seemed to be doing better than he had in a long time. Alfred had hoped Bruce would make his peace with his past and the Batman so he could settle down and be happy. But maybe that was just never the happiness Bruce was destined to have. Maybe there was a different kind of happiness, though. Even if it was in a cave on a computer.

Alfred's hesitation had stretched out far enough to really grab Bruce's attention. He looked up from his computer, eyes concerned. "Alfred?"

Alfred abandoned his precautionary words for the moment. "Would you like some iced tea as well?"

Bruce looked at him a moment, considering, before he too moved on. "Not really, but some coffee would be great. Thanks."

Alfred nodded and moved upstairs, repressing a sigh.

At least he wasn't branding criminals anymore.

* * *

Lois and Martha spent the next few hours combing through Smallville without a trace of Clark. When they returned to the house Pete was waiting next to his police cruiser.

"I need to show you something." He opened the passenger side door and invited her to sit. She quickly did. Martha moved to the porch and waved them off, clearly determined to wait at home in case Clark showed up. Pete drove slowly up the road to the cemetery again.

"I canvassed the area. Took quite a while, the fields are big and it all looks the same until you get close enough to see any disturbed areas. But I finally found something." He drove past the cemetery and down the road, then turned left. Lois could see a cone typically used for detouring traffic in an emergency sitting on the side of the road, obviously to help Pete find his way back to it. Lois looked out the window at the endless fields and marveled at Pete's dedication. It must have taken hours of walking up and down through rows. Pete rolled up next to the cone and turned the car off, then led Lois into the field of hip-high stalks. Finally he stopped and pointed, but Lois had already seen it. A large swathe of wheat beaten down or churned up in a more or less straight path, ending after sixty feet or so.

Lois quickly turned and looked back toward the cemetery, just visible in the distance with its grove of trees. She stood back and tried to visualize Clark emerging from the cemetery in flight, then followed the path to where they stood with her eyes. "It fits." She looked at Pete, who was nodding. "He could have crashed here."

"Looks like it. I know it doesn't tell you where he is but..." Pete shrugged. Lois rushed to reassure him.

"No no, this is helpful Pete, thank you," she smiled at him to let him know she meant it. He nodded and moved into the churned up dirt, checking the ground for anything that might help. Lois surveyed the surrounding area with a complete turn, taking in the landscape as her mind worked the problem. Pete approached with a small dark shred of fabric in his hand, dirt still clinging to it. He handed it to Lois, and she studied it closely.

She knew that fabric. Countless times she had run her fingers over it as she touched Clark's arm or lapel. It was one of his favorites, that was why she and Martha had chosen to bury him in it. She had wanted to believe he might be alive so badly, but this made it so much more real. Her eyes had a moist sheen on them as she lifted them to Pete's face.

"It's from his suit coat. He was here." She gave a soft, hiccuped laugh and smiled a big smile, making Pete smile widely too.

She headed back to the car, eager to share with Martha. Pete followed.

Martha fingered the small shred of fabric, tears forming in her eyes. The two women shared a smile and a hug before calming down enough to consider their next plan of action. After some discussion, Martha held Lois by the shoulders.

"You go. I'll stay here just in case. Go find our Clark." Martha's eyes were shining, bright with desperate hope. Lois hugged her again.

"I'll call you as soon as I find anything."

And Lois was out the door, heading to Pete's cruiser for a ride to the air strip.

* * *

The first few hours of the drive were very enjoyable. Hank watched the countryside from his window and listened to Paul tell him about his wife and his adult children. He could feel his body gathering strength in small increments. The granola bar had settled well and he was on his way to parts unknown. All seemed well, aside from the fact that he didn't remember anything about himself.

But after a while Hank became aware of a constant nagging headache. It hung on through the next hours, no matter how Hank tried to manage it. It cut into his enjoyment of listening to Paul's voice, the man's friendly chatter hadn't changed volume at all but was suddenly loud, blaring and overpowering to Hank's abruptly sensitive ears. The light was too bright, the sound of the semi's engine too piercing. There was a constant whine growing in his head. Hank averted his eyes and tried not to let his discomfort show, still giving appropriate nods and responses when politeness called for it.

They had left the farmland behind and were on the freeway navigating multiple lanes of traffic, alternately slowing down and accelerating, a large city outside Hank's window and somewhat trapped in a slow-going mass of traffic, before it became unbearable.

Hank had his eyes closed for a moment, trying to will his headache away, when sound suddenly snapped to brilliant and painful multidimensional life. He could hear everything around him and beyond him, a baby crying in a car two lanes from them and an arguing couple in the car behind it. Dozens of different songs or news stations talking and chattering away, the garbled jumble of more and more voices, louder and louder and every second more overwhelming. Hank squeezed his eyes shut even further, unable to stop the pained look that crossed his face. He pulled into himself, hunching over like a turtle trying to pull into its shell.

"Hey, you okay Hank?" Paul cast a wary glance his way while still trying to navigate traffic. He was fairly trusting and open to helping a stranger, but he wasn't ignorant of the dangers that could come with it. If this guy was going to suddenly go ballistic on him it was going to be a bad day.

Hank opened his eyes and looked at Paul, ready to blame a migraine, but instead of Paul he had a detailed look at the inner workings of Paul's body, down to the beating heart. It was terrifying, so he looked up at the ceiling of the cab, noting that he could see through it as well and into the sky above. The urge to push up and somehow escape was overwhelming, but he fought it back. He didn't have the strength still, that much he knew.

"Hank?" Paul was looking more and more unnerved. Hank closed his eyes and focused, not wanting to scare the man more. He didn't deserve that, and besides every instinct inside Hank was telling him to downplay this. To hide it. _Don't show them you're different._

"I'm sorry," he gasped out. "I feel strange."

Paul's fear melted into worry. "That sucks, man. Do you want to lay down in the back for a while? Maybe some sleep will help you feel better."

Hank nodded, grateful to find a place he could wrestle with it unobserved. He crawled into the bunk behind the seats and laid down, removing his glasses and placing them in a pocket. The darker, more enclosed space gave off a soothing feeling. He closed his eyes and pressed his fingers into them to at least block some of the stimuli. But the sounds remained, pressing in on his mind, assaulting his ears.

"— _I am so sick of you talking over me, let me speak—"_

" _Please baby, it's okay don't cry. Next exit I promise—"_

" _Help him!"_ He could taste metallic, coppery blood all of a sudden and he had no idea if it was real or imagined, his senses were so acute.

"— _why is there no copy for this story—"_

" _Hey let's go, what are you doing?"_

"— _just wish there was something I could do—"_

" _You can save all of them."_

" _Hello, Cal."_

He was glad his head was behind Paul's seat, out of the man's view. He held his skull as his mouth opened in a silent scream as voices and sounds poured into his head. It was overwhelming, distressing, chaotic agony. Someone somewhere was singing and the sound mixed with a news report.

_...islands in the stream...that is what we are..._

" _In other news, Stryker's island, once uninhabited, will now—"_

Hank's eyes popped open. _Island..._

The image of an island came to the forefront of his mind, along with a feminine voice.

" _Pretend it's an island...swim towards it honey..."_

Hank closed his eyes and focused, working to slow his breathing as he visualized one thing in the ocean of sound and swam toward it. After several minutes he opened his eyes, and the world felt smaller. He didn't move though. The struggle had left him exhausted, and he felt weak again. He closed his eyes and allowed the steady rhythm of the moving cab to lull him to sleep, not realizing his right arm was extended out of habit, waiting for someone that never came to curl up next to him...

_In his mind, the island became an ocean, and he bobbed on the surface under a giant three-pronged machine that pounded the earth with a beam of light. The sound of it washed over him, pinning him in the water as it carried varied nameless screaming victims away from his grasp. He reached for them fruitlessly, too immobile to help, too weighed down to lift them. A bright piercing light burst off the horizon, and flames spread impossibly over the waves. Surrounding him with their burning heat, incinerating anyone still near but leaving him untouched. A woman screamed as she fell from the high machine, but he could do nothing to save her. A black shadow loomed over his paralyzed form and blocked out the sun, deep rumbling voice beating into his chest like daggers, pain with every breath._

" _I bet your parents taught you that you mean something, that you're here for a reason."_

_He was being dragged slowly across the water by his ankle, weak and helpless, drifting sideways in the tide. The water turned green and he choked on it, gasping for breath—_

"Hank?"

A hand on his shoulder brought him straight up. Paul jumped back with his hands in the air.

"Whoa, sorry to scare you! I was just wondering if you were hungry."

He pointed out the front of the cab and Hank craned to look. It was almost dark. He must have slept for hours. A truck stop waited for them, complete with a restaurant lit in a garish green from a neon sign. Hank's jaw tensed. He had to shake his head to clear the last bits of dream away.

Hank looked at Paul, suddenly sheepish. "I don't have any money on me."

Paul smiled, shaking his head. "Get out, I think I can take care of that."

Hank rolled off the bunk and climbed out of the cab after Paul. His feet hit the ground, solid and steady. He didn't feel as weak as he had all day. The sensory issues seemed to be under control now. He felt much better, actually. Except for the lingering cloudiness in his mind, flitting images and emotions scattering and rising at odd moments. He ignored it and offered Paul a smile of thanks.

Paul slapped his shoulder. "Let's get some food." He recoiled, waving his smarting hand in the air. "Ow! Buddy you are stacked! You sure you're not some WWF wrestler?"

Hank smiled. "I don't think so."

Not that he really knew.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope to have the next chapter up by the beginning of next week or so. Fingers crossed. Also, if you're reeeaaaaaaaaallllly into mining tiny details out of things (like I am, lol) Clark's dream should have some familiar elements to it of course, and some of the voices he was hearing were actually memories surfacing. You might recognize some familiar lines from Man of Steel. If you caught them all, nice job! That wasn't an accident. ;)


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shadows from the past.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all the support guys. :)

Dinner should have been relaxed and enjoyable for Hank. Paul was friendly and cheerfully shouldered the burden of keeping the conversation going, which allowed Hank to order a fairly inexpensive meal and eat it with good company.

But as usual, he was finding that it wasn't that simple.

Even if he wasn't internally wondering how best to find a job and make sure he paid Paul back for his kindness, there was also the matter of what his real name was and where he really belonged. In addition he was discovering he could alternately block the extra senses that allowed him to take in so much, but he could also focus and sharpen them to hear the conversation the cooks were having in the kitchen and the waitress in the back complaining about her sore feet. He didn't know his own name, but Hank was still pretty sure that wasn't normal.

However, even those problems took a backseat once Hank became aware of the low level anxiety that was seeping into every pore. Something was eating at him, and he wasn't sure what it was. The waitress looked like no one he knew, and yet the long dark ponytail down her back gave him pause. The man sitting at the bar on a stool with his back to them had almost shoulder length waves of light brown hair. He kept staring at it without meaning to, his brow furrowed in thought. The older couple at the other end of the restaurant looked like any other, but it made him sad to look at them. And the woman who entered with short curly red hair was wrong somehow but he wasn't sure why. He frowned into his chicken fried steak and vegetables, hyper aware that the green light from the neon sign spilled into the room and colored the front part of the restaurant despite the dim glowing lights over each booth. The color bothered him on an irrational level, leaving him uncomfortable and on edge.

"—but then we figured out it was a raccoon, dang thing had crawled in when we weren't looking and made itself at home on my bunk!" Paul chortled as he picked up another fry. "That's when I decided my CB handle should be Masked Bandit," Paul laughed again before noting that Hank hadn't laughed with him. "Hank, you still feeling weird?"

Hank shook his head. "I'm okay," he mumbled as he moved to stand up and excused himself to the restroom.

Once there he removed his glasses, ran some cold water in the sink and used his cupped hands to splash some on his face. His muscles felt tensed and ready for action. He closed his eyes and hung his head over the sink, feeling the droplets run down his face. It felt disturbingly familiar, like rain drops.

He opened his eyes and looked at the mirror, but he wasn't prepared for the reflection that looked back at him.

A bat armored in metal, with glowing eyes.

He yelled in surprise and lurched backwards, fists raised in defense, slamming into the tiled wall behind him so hard he immediately felt it crunch under his back. He had to blink several times, exhale and shake his head again to clear it before he could look at the mirror again. This time it was just his own face, white with shock, droplets of water still clinging, eyes wide and haunted. But he still didn't recognize himself under the shock pallor.

He lowered his fists, taking himself in. He took a cautious step forward and any broken tiles that had been held up by his body immediately dropped and clinked to the floor, a steady shattering sound that heightened his anxiety as he turned to look. He stared at the depression in the wall, aghast. He was torn between concern at the damage he'd done and the reflection in the mirror he was still coming back to stare at. He sized himself up, taking in the circles around his eyes and the high cheekbones, the dark hair on his forehead beginning to curl after becoming damp. His eyes caught the ruined wall behind him again so he turned to take it in. That didn't seem normal either.

He put himself back together as best he could, put his glasses back on and hurried out before anyone else could come in. Once at the table he quickly finished his food while Paul paid and followed him out the front door, still on edge and anxious. It felt like there was something coming for him.

Paul stretched outside the front door and leisurely began strolling in the direction of his rig. Hank fell into step beside him. Paul was just asking him if he felt up to more hours of driving when the sound of a roaring engine and squealing tires interrupted them.

Hank looked up in alarm. An old rattling Buick raced into the parking lot, fishtailing wildly. Even sixty feet away when Hank focused he could see the driver and passenger laughing and hooting. They were drunk or high, and very out of control. The driver was in the process of attempting an uncoordinated high speed cookie, and even as Hank and Paul watched the car veered into a nearby gas pump. Luckily it was unoccupied, but the gas pump burst into flames as the car went completely out of control. It spun toward them, threatening to flip at any moment.

Hank didn't even hesitate. He stepped in front of Paul and took the hit, arms braced out to ward off the impact. The car should have mowed him down, but once his outstretched palms caught it the vehicle glanced off them and careened away, coming to a stop some twenty feet away.

Paul had instinctively turned away and covered his face with his arms, and now he hesitantly lowered them as he tried to figure out how they were still alive. All he could think was that the car had missed them somehow, even though he had thought surely they were dead. He hadn't missed that Hank had stepped in from of him though. He turned to check on his new friend.

Hank was already approaching the car where it was sitting in the parking lot, lit by the flames of the gas pump ablaze behind it. He opened the driver's side door and it came off in his hand. The driver stared at him blearily.

"S' this the fun park?"

Hank looked him up and down, searching for internal injury or broken bones. He was remarkably undamaged. His companion gave a weak wave from the other side of the car, and Hank scanned him too. He located a cut above his eyebrow but he seemed fine as well.

A small crowd was starting to spill out of the restaurant, asking questions and exclaiming in high excitable voices. Hank leaned the door back against the car as a large tanker pulled into the lot. It came to a stop at an angle to Hank, and the driver quickly jumped out of his cab. He hurried over to Paul and the assembled onlookers to ask questions and offer help. Someone was already inside calling 911.

But Hank barely noticed. He was spellbound by the words on the side of the newly arrived tanker.

The blaze from the flames lit the night, bathing the truck stop in flickering light. Hank stared at the gas tanker, emblazoned with the words **Gotham City Gas**. His breathing came more harsh and fast with every passing second, and he could picture a different car in his mind than the one he was standing next to. Black and low-slung, radically different from the one he was looking at right now. He was walking toward it, determined.

His gaze went back to the tanker. He unwittingly mouthed the words again. "Gotham City Gas." It was familiar. A figure in black rose from the shadows, fearlessly standing to face him but his own clothes were all wrong. There should be something billowing behind him. There should be something on his chest. The memory danced in the flames around him, immersing him.

" _Tell me. Do you bleed?"_

His head whipped so fast to the approaching crowd behind him several people flinched. He stared at them, eyes intense. "What?"

Paul had left the crowd and moved closer, his eyes running up and down Hank looking for injury. "I asked if you were bleeding." The other just stared at him, still deep inside his own mind. "Hank?"

Hank looked at him, then back to the blazing pump. His glasses were rendered opaque by the flames. He suddenly looked otherworldly to Paul. When he spoke again it was slow and wondering, but also certain. "That's not my name." He looked off into the distance as if he could see something no one else could.

"I know, I just—" Paul stopped speaking when he realized that Hank, or whoever he was, wasn't listening anymore. He had looked back at the tanker again.

Then he just walked away.

"Hank? Hank!"

Hank walked swiftly into the shadows and disappeared into the darkness.

* * *

Diana was waiting in her car at the air strip when Lois' flight landed. It was dark already, but Lois immediately got in the car and asked for an update. Diana's mouth pursed as she pulled onto the road and head to Metropolis.

"Nothing," she sounded as frustrated as Lois felt. "We can't find anything on him. No sign of him anywhere."

Lois sat back in her seat and tried not to let it get to her. But it was very worrisome that Clark hadn't made contact with anyone yet. It had been approximately twelve hours since Martha had called her. Plenty of time for Clark to find one of them. To see his mother. To come back to their apartment. To show someone he was alive. She stared out the widow at the darkness, lost in thought.

The last time he had been in the wind like this was after the Capitol bombing. He had left without a trace, disappearing to who knows where as he grappled with the reality of being both super and just a man. And still, he had come back and saved her when Lex threw her from the top of his building. He had always been there to catch her.

Lois caught sight of her reflection on the black window and realized how distraught she looked. She cleared her expression and glanced at Diana, who was giving all her attention to driving and letting Lois have a moment to herself. Lois cleared her throat and went for a lighter feeling.

"I'm surprised Bruce didn't insist on picking me up."

Diana's mouth turned up. "He offered. I beat him to it."

Lois shook her head, unsurprised. "He doesn't trust me at all, does he?"

Diana gave her a quick glance. "It's not that he doesn't trust you."

"That's what he said. What is it, then?" Lois looked right at Diana.

Diana deliberated. "He...worries about you."

Lois looked offended. "What? Why?"

Diana gave her a look of understanding. "He's Bruce. He can't help it."

That wasn't very illuminating. Lois turned away, irritated. "He thinks because Clark is—was gone he needs to watch over me? I got out of plenty of scrapes before I ever met Clark. He doesn't need to babysit me."

Diana sighed. "No, he doesn't. But he worries about the future. A lot. You could be a part of that. And Martha...well. He just needs to watch over her because he feels responsible."

Lois frowned. "He didn't kill Clark."

"No he didn't. But he has to feel guilty about something."

Lois opened her mouth to counter that when she realized they had passed the street leading to her building and were headed downtown. "Where are we going?"

Diana navigated another corner and stopped in front of a wide open space flanked by tall buildings. She turned off her car and motioned with her head. Lois could see a tall dark figure standing in the middle. Diana shrugged. "It was the last place he could think to look." She got out and waited for Lois to join her.

Lois looked at Heroes Park and sighed in frustration. It was possible that Bruce just wanted some sort of meeting place, since she had never gone to his home or base of operations even though she knew it existed, and he never came to her apartment unless it was under cover of night and he was in his Batman suit. But meeting here wouldn't have been her chosen location. She understood that lack of any real results had left them all desperately looking into any familiar place hoping to discover what they'd lost. It was what anyone did after misplacing an item. But this place was a dead end for sure. Lois opened her door and grumbled as she moved out of the car.

"He wouldn't come here."

Lois and Diana walked past the long reflecting pools to join Bruce near the shield plaque in the middle. He was looking at it, hands in his overcoat, frowning face a clear indicator that he was still trying to come up with a new angle to locate Clark. Lois and Diana stepped up on ether side of him and looked at it too, waiting.

Finally Bruce spoke. "I've come at this from every angle I can think of. Nothing. It's like he just disappeared. I can't find him."

Lois could tell it weighed heavily on him. It was clear the longer they went without a trace of Clark the more bleak the situation looked, just like with any missing person. But it made no sense. Why wouldn't he come back to her?

She fingered the ring still on her finger. "We'll find him." She had to. She'd done it before. She could do it again.

Diana was looking around. "Did you really think he'd be here?"

It was obvious Bruce had no idea. He shrugged. "It was worth a shot."

"He wouldn't come here." The words popped out before Lois could stop them.

Bruce glanced at her, face serious but thoughtful. "Why not?"

Lois pushed her hands deeper into the pockets of her coat and hunched her shoulders, but it was Diana who looked at her face and gave the answer.

"People died here." Diana's face was sad as she surveyed the old battlefield.

Bruce looked around as well, taking in the surrounding buildings and empty space that many more used to occupy. He hadn't given much thought to how Superman would feel about the monument created in his honor. At the time it was created he had bitterly assumed Superman would enjoy it. A monument to a supposed god, a creature to be worshiped by humanity. It had disgusted him.

But now, after everything they'd been through and everything he had seen, after watching Superman give his life to ensure Doomsday died too, he was still realizing they were more alike than he would ever have considered after the Battle of Metropolis brought down Wayne Financial. He, Bruce, would never want a statue honoring him. He wanted results. A better city. Less crime. People helped, criminals punished. And he would never glory in the fact that he was worshiped in a place where so many had died because of what he was.

And neither would Clark Kent.

He stared at the plaque with its giant S even as he regretted his past actions anew. He wondered if Clark had nightmares about the battle, how it must have felt to be trapped between his own kind and the humans he loved. It had never occurred to him to wonder before. He had never known who Superman truly was until it was too late and it felt like he still didn't.

"Then where?" He tried to keep his void of emotion, but knew that some hopelessness had worked its way out.

Lois stared at the shield too, enjoying the roughly added words in white paint. After the harsh winter, the paint had chipped and flaked away leaving the words indistinct and harder to read. As soon as the first signs of spring approached someone had refreshed them with new paint. The goodwill in Metropolis hadn't faded yet, and Lois hoped it never would. It was Clark's legacy. His true monument. A small smile curved her lips as she remembered her visit here eight months ago. "Wherever it is, I'm sure he's doing good—"

Her voice broke into a muffled gasp as the pieces came together. How she'd tracked him down the first time through his constant desire to help people. The car she'd noted speeding down the road a ways down from the field Clark had landed in. The stories he'd told her about hitchhiking, moving job to job...

If he didn't or couldn't fly, he might have hitchhiked. It didn't explain why he hadn't come home but it would be something he wasn't afraid to do. If he was picked up by someone driving a car it would be almost impossible to track down. But if he'd been picked up by a trucker...

She looked at Diana and Bruce, both of whom were staring at her waiting.

"I need a CB radio. Right now."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope to have the next chapter up the beginning of next week! Thanks for reading! :)


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A step closer to Clark, but Bruce has his own shadows from the past to deal with.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the support guys it means a lot. :)

There was a split second of surprised silence, then Diana asked the obvious question.

"Why a CB radio?"

Lois shifted her bag, eager to go already. She was almost certain she was right. She met Bruce's quizzical look and elaborated.

"Before Clark became known to the world he used to wander from job to job. He always ended up helping someone and moving on to avoid discovery, and he wasn't afraid to hitch hike."

The meaningful look she gave him was unnecessary in the end, as both Bruce and Diana made the connection easily. Lois was already thinking of ways to find a CB radio. Time was of the utmost importance, since it was possible for the trucker to move out of range the further they drove. It was already a gamble that one had picked him up. Lois looked at her watch.

"It's late and all the stores will probably be closed, especially ones that sell this kind of thing. Maybe if I went to the nearest truck stop—"

Bruce seemed to make a sudden decision and began walking back to the cars. "Follow me."

Exchanging looks, the women followed him closely back to the cars. Once they started driving Bruce led the way and Diana followed with Lois. Lois fingered her bag handles in agitation. She hated sitting still when she was ready to follow a lead. "Where do you think we're going?"

Diana turned a corner, still following Bruce. "I don't know. Hopefully to a radio."

They drove in silence, through Metropolis and into Gotham. Lois fidgeted and waited impatiently while Diana became more and more intrigued. Finally as the cars entered a dirt road and drove past high fields of weeds, a burnt-out and broken down manor on one side and a small family cemetery complete with a small mausoleum on the other, Diana gave Lois a look of amazement.

"We're going to his home. Maybe he trusts you more than you think."

Lois gave her a blank look of shock and began looking out the window with more intensity, taking in the surroundings. She had never been invited near Bruce's home. He always came to her.

They slowly pulled up to a small but elegant house set on the lake, made up of large windows and clean lines. Bruce pulled into the garage while Diana parked in front, and Bruce met them on the short concrete walk. He entered the code into a pad next to the front door and held it open for the women. Diana was here often but said nothing as Lois moved slowly inside, just gave Bruce an impressed look as she passed him that he did his best to ignore. He closed the door and was about the lead Lois further in when Alfred materialized, giving the trio a dumbfounded look even though he had caught their arrival on the security camera feed.

Bruce was not wasting any time on formalities. "Alfred, we have company," his tone was brisk as he motioned to Lois which way to proceed.

Alfred had managed to cover his shock with an appropriate poker face by now. "I surmised as much, Master Wayne." Still, he traded looks with Diana as they followed. Diana was trying to keep a large grin from spreading across her face.

However, the further down the hallway they progressed, the less either could hide their slack-jawed amazement. Bruce brought Lois right to the hidden elevator that led to his secret operation center under the house. He gave both Alfred and Diana a quelling look before he put his palm on the wall to activate an invisible sensor and waited as the seemingly innocuous granite slid back to reveal a small private elevator. Bruce had only designed it for two people at a time so he and Lois went first, Diana followed with Alfred.

Lois was fully aware of how unprecedented this was, judging by the looks on everyone's faces around her. She could feel the familiar burning desire to write an expose about this but knew she never would. Life with Clark had taught her there are some secrets that needed to be kept. The public deserved the truth, but sometimes keeping the fine details back was essential and even beneficial both to the public and the one trying to do good.

Even so, as Bruce led her deeper into the labyrinth of glass and stairs, she couldn't help trying to take in every detail as she went. It was fascinating. Clark wore his suit under his clothes much of the time so he could be ready to help at a moment's notice. Everything he needed to be Superman was inside of him, simply a part of who he was. Even their apartment was clean of anything that directly indicated Clark's superhero alter ego, except the suit when he wasn't wearing it. He was Clark Kent. Until he removed that identity and became Superman. And of course, they were one and the same to her.

But Bruce seemed to be built of many layers, all shifting and turning to be revealed at the correct time. Lois had often tried to reconcile the Bruce Wayne the public knew and the voice-altered Batman into the same man. It was a difficult feat. One had little or nothing in common with the other, and she often wondered if there was a third man hiding somewhere that was the real Bruce Wayne. Maybe she was seeing pieces of him right now.

The group walked further into the lair, Lois noting Batman's car on a lower level and the waterfall that cut through the middle of the entire structure. Her curiosity was piqued as they passed stairs that went down a level, a quick surreptitious look giving her a glimpse of what looked like a glass case with a suit in it and a hand print on the wall behind it. She could easily glean the years of vigilante activity that had passed already.

Bruce was heading away from those stairs, so Lois followed him into what was clearly the central nervous system of the cave that boasted many computer monitors and tech gadgets. Bruce moved to a low console that had broken down pieces of a bat suit on it and pushed them to one side. He pulled out a chair and indicated Lois should sit. She did. Bruce then went to the back of the room to some shelves with all kinds of items on them and rummaged through a few. He returned in short order with a CB radio. He placed it on the table in front of her and stepped back. Lois gave him a grateful look, amazed.

Alfred nodded. "Ah yes, we used that when you were working to break up the ring of gun runners bringing weapons into the city." He turned to Diana. "They were moving them secretly in trucks that delivered bakery items to a particular chain of grocery stores. It was a good idea, until the Bat got wind of it."

Bruce moved to his own computer console. "They just changed their carriers after that. Had to start tracking them down all over again."

"True," Alfred conceded. He surveyed the room. Lois was plugging the radio into the nearby power strip and starting to find frequencies. Diana was at her station bringing up anything that could help her track trucking routes through Kansas, and Bruce was already attempting to hack the Department of Transportation.

Alfred looked back at Lois, amazed that Bruce would allow her access. It was a hopeful sign, yet unnerving at the same time. Bruce's safety relied on keeping his Bat activities a well-kept secret. Expanding the circle of people who knew always brought risk. However, Lois Lane had kept Superman's secret for two years and showed no sign of stopping. Diana had proved her worth thus far.

Bruce could do far worse. Alfred wondered if in time he would see Clark Kent in this room as well.

Never had he imagined, as he listened with sinking heart to the fight that he was sure would claim Bruce's soul once and for all, that Bruce would ever again have people he felt he could trust with his secrets besides Alfred himself. The future was full of speculation and uncertainty, but Alfred still preferred this to the piercing dread he had felt last year as he helplessly watched Bruce retreat further and further into his paranoia and fears.

"What can I do to help?"

Bruce glanced back. "I'm going to need my suit soon. Is it ready to go?"

Alfred gave him a look. "Of course it is. But I'll check everything again to make sure." He turned to go and then turned back. "And perhaps some extra transmitters?"

Bruce gave Alfred a rare look of gratitude, mouth turning up in the tiniest of smiles. "That would be great."

* * *

He walked away from the truck stop, in the direction of the sign a few miles away he could see when he focused just right.

**Gotham City: 8 Miles**

Gotham. It was familiar. It had triggered definitive memories when nothing else had. It was where he needed to go for answers, or at least a good starting place. He walked in the dark, not hitch hiking this time, moving with determination. He wasn't sure what waited for him there. Judging by the memory of a black-suited threat, it might not be good. But he wasn't going to back away from a chance to find out who he was. His body was thrumming with tension and the anxious desire for action. Hot, pulsing pain was niggling at the base of his neck, spreading up to the back of his skull. He ignored it and adjusted his glasses, breathing heavily as he trudged. He let his senses tune in and out, picking up scraps of traffic sounds or random animal noises along the deserted highway and beyond.

His name wasn't Hank. That much he knew. He could hear and see far away, and he could crunch a tile wall into pieces. He was walking fast but felt like he could go faster, higher even. He had a name and a purpose and he felt like he had searched for them before. He wondered at the leap he'd felt in his stomach when he'd first seen the redhead at the truck stop restaurant before he'd realized something was wrong and she wasn't someone he knew. He could feel it now, amid the panic and tension and dread built up inside. The need to find a safe place of belonging. With someone. He kept his senses alert, hoping to hear a sound he didn't even know. He moved closer and closer to Gotham City.

And all the while, he wondered.

_Did_ he bleed?

* * *

Diana and Bruce stood in one corner of the computer room and quietly discussed when would be the right time to tell Lois to call it quits for the night. As it was, she was currently resting her head on an outstretched arm draped over the console, still speaking intermittently into the hand-held communication piece.

"This is Superwoman, over."

Bruce studied her from afar. "She looks exhausted," he murmured.

Diana didn't argue that point. "But the more time that passes, the less chance we have of finding anyone who might have seen him." Bruce inclined his head to show that he understood that point, but she could see he was still considering an approach to Lois. "Maybe you should just let her go until she decides to be done." Bruce gave little indication that he'd heard that. Diana was starting to feel like she was talking to a brick wall. Lois and Bruce were more alike than they would ever admit, because Diana knew very well that if anyone told Lois she should quit to get some rest she'd give them the same reaction.

Lois had been at it for hours. She had made up her own CB handle and reached out with conversation starters to anyone in range, asking about their day, mentioning a fabricated close call and asking if others had had one recently. She casually brought up the topic of hitchhikers and asked if anyone else was brave enough to pick one up. She asked who had been through Kansas in the past few days. She had talked with so many drivers they had long since lost count. She was wearing down, partly because it was so late and partly because she was getting nothing back that indicated anyone had seen Clark.

But Bruce knew it was going to be a fight to get her to quit. And honestly he didn't want to quit either. He was pondering asking Alfred to bring in something to use as a mattress for Lois when she suddenly sat up straight. Bruce stiffened, listening closely to what she was hearing over the radio.

"This is Masked Bandit. Your day sounds pretty crazy but you would not believe the day I've just had. I'm lucky to be alive, over."

"Why do you say that, were you in a wreck, over?" Lois' voice was one of forced calm, trying not to be too hopeful or sound too eager.

"Well kind of, but not in my rig," Masked Bandit laughed. "My friend and I were eating at a truck stop and almost got run over by some high idiots who thought the gas station was a fun park. I thought Hank and I were dead for sure when their car spun out of control and came right at us, over."

"That sounds scary. So it missed you, over?" Lois was frowning, trying to piece together the scene with Masked Bandit's limited description. Bruce and Diana drifted closer.

"I guess it did. Hank moved right in front of me. I thought they'd be peeling him and me off that car for the next week, but not a scratch on us, over."

Lois looked up, meeting Bruce's eyes. "Who's Hank, over?"

"Hitchhiker I picked up early in the day, wanderer I guess. Nice guy, even if he's a bit odd, over."

The air in the room was thick with palpable tension as Lois visibly gathered the nerve to ask the next question. Bruce and Diana both moved a step closer still, crowding around the console.

"So Hank is okay too? Is he there with you, over?"

"Nah he's gone. He just up and left after all that, but I got to stay behind and fill out a police report as a witness, put me way behind. I was going to drive a few more hours and get some sleep but now I gotta make up for lost time after all that. I'll be driving all night. Just got on the road now, actually. Hope Hank is okay wherever he is, over."

"What truck stop were you at, over?" Lois' voice was trembling. Bruce moved to his computer as he waited for the answer to come.

"The Weary Traveler outside of Gotham, over."

Three pairs of eyes met in shock. Lois dropped the CB mouthpiece and quickly picked it back up. "He left you at the truck stop outside of Gotham City, over?"

"Yep. Nice guy, seemed a little strange though. Kept staring at the words, acting real jumpy. I figured he might have some kind of mental problem or maybe he's on the run from the police. He did leave real fast after that crash. But he was harmless, over."

Lois fought to calm her rapid breathing and affected as much of a casual conversation tone as she could manage, which was an impressive amount. Bruce inwardly complimented her abilities.

"You know, I went through Kansas today too and I think I might have passed him. What was he wearing, over?"

Masked Bandit laughed over the radio. "Clean cut, nice shirt, suit jacket. A little dirty. He could be a model if he could keep it together, over."

"Blue jacket, glasses, over?" Lois waited in suspense.

"Yeah, that's him! Nice guy, over."

Lois rapidly assessed the facts in her head. Everything fit. It had to be him. Except— "Did he tell you his name was Hank, what about his last name, over?"

"He never told me his name. I just called him Hank. It was either that or Henry. And yes, I know it was dangerous I didn't even know his name. I have pretty good instincts about people, don't give me the wife lecture, over." There was a moment of silence and then he continued, obviously not done with his point. "I mean where would we be if people stopped believing man was good? After everything we've seen the past couple of years? I don't want to be in this world if it's dog eat dog. He stepped between me and a car and risked his own life. I think my instincts were good, over."

Lois smiled softly. "Yes, I think they were good. Drive safe Masked Bandit, Superwoman over and out."

"Go save the world, Superwoman. Masked Bandit over and out."

Lois replaced the hand held and turned off the CB. Bruce spoke from his computer, already bringing up information. "Highway patrol log reports a gas pump in flames after two high motorists driving a Buick collided with it two hours ago. No injuries at the scene, one close call. A trucker and an unidentified party who disappeared before the police arrived. Police don't seem concerned enough to track him down."

"That has to be Clark." Lois sounded certain. Bruce nodded, bringing up police reports and scanning them quickly.

"The two motorists swear the car bounced off that guy, but they are high so the police aren't buying it." Bruce scanned a second report. "Truck driver says his buddy was acting weird. Zoned out staring at a tanker truck." Police photos blipped onto the screen, one after another. A ruined Buick with crunched front end and a door off the driver's side. A burning gas pump. And a tanker with the words Gotham City Gas on the side.

Lois came to her feet. "He has to be coming home."

But Bruce stared at the words, remembering the night his car had bounced off Superman's leg and crashed into a gas pump. "Something's not right about this."

"What do you mean?" Diana was having similar thoughts but wanted to know Bruce's take on it.

Bruce stood, still looking at the images on the screen. "Masked Bandit said he was going to drive a few more hours, and it sounded like he thought he'd be doing it with his new friend. If Clark was coming home why didn't he get off in Gotham? He goes eight miles _past_ Gotham to a truck stop and then turns back? Why wouldn't he head straight for Metropolis? Why didn't he ever tell his name to the driver? And he still never went to the farm to see Martha." Bruce glanced at both women. Diana was nodding in agreement. Lois crossed her arms, which meant she acknowledged his point but was still unhappy about it.

Bruce's conclusion came out reluctantly. "It seems like there's something wrong with him. He's not acting like he should."

Lois breathed in a choppy breath, clenching her teeth. "Whatever is wrong with him, we'll figure it out. But we need to find him first."

"I agree," Bruce's tone was conciliatory, and he looked at Diana to make sure she was of the same mind. He looked back to Lois, his tone softening automatically. "Why don't you go home and make sure he hasn't been there? Now that we think he's heading to Gotham I can focus my search here. This is good news. If he's in my city, I'll find him."

Lois hesitated, and everyone knew she was deliberating. But she still hadn't been home since she landed, and the desire to see if Clark was there was too strong. "You'll keep me informed?"

Diana stepped in front of Bruce. "We will keep you informed." Bruce gave her a small perturbed look but let it slide. Considering he had trusted Lois with his secret base of operations, he didn't think there should be any question of how much he intended to keep Lois in the loop.

Lois gave a small nod, and Diana offered to drive her home. Bruce brought up his facial recognition program and all of his access points into security cameras throughout Gotham.

Only when the women were gone did he let the stress show on his face, his jaw hardening, his eyes focused on the screen while he considered possibilities. Clark was acting off, and it worried him. He pushed away mental images of a vengeful god pulling off his mask, murdering his cohorts without a pause. That was a dream. It didn't mean that would be the future.

But it was hard to remember that when his goal for the last eight months had been finding metahumans to meet the future he knew was coming, and with that same dream someone had already tried to warn him of it. If he didn't discount it as a feverish dream born of paranoia. The voice echoed in his mind.

" _You were right! You were right about him! Fear him!"_

The niggling fear that Clark Kent had resurrected as someone other than the man he'd truly known so briefly was something he couldn't ignore.

Alfred materialized at his elbow, already clued in to his unrest.

"Problem, Master Wayne?" He hadn't seen that look on Bruce's face in a long time.

Bruce stared at the screen, reluctant to voice his worry. Alfred waited patiently and was eventually rewarded.

"What if, in coming back to life, he's been altered or changed? What if he's not the same man he was?"

Alfred gazed at him, unable to deny it but very wary of this train of thought. "I don't know. But I would caution you to remember what happened last time you thought he was a threat." Bruce gave a curt nod. Alfred's eyes flicked nervously to the security camera screens, checking on the room with the Robin suit in its glass case. The vault door was still closed. Alfred focused on Bruce again. "Don't doom yourself to repeat history over and over again, that's how you got there in the first place."

Bruce glanced at him and then away. "I'm not looking for it to happen. But a lot of things have happened I never wanted."

"I know." Alfred gazed at him sadly. Bruce made no reply. Alfred hovered, still worried. "The suit is in perfect condition. I have transmitters standing by."

Bruce was loading Clark Kent's obituary picture into the facial recognition program. He stared at Clark's face, complete with glasses and a smile.

"Thank you, Alfred."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope to have the next chapter up sometime early next week! :)
> 
> The Justice League news is breaking and it's really exciting, and I'd like to take this moment to say that this was just a nice Clark-centered story about his return and not my projection of what I think is going to happen.
> 
> I had a debate with myself when I started plotting this story and I deliberated over which version to go with. I am pretty sure the Justice League film will be way more complicated regarding Clark's return, and I pondered doing a Darkseid takeover of Clark with Lois as the key. But I never feel comfortable writing for something like this if I have very little knowledge of it, I don't even write for new characters before I've seen them and have a chance to get a idea of how they speak, move, and act etc. I haven't read the comics regarding Darksied and his minions so I felt too uneducated to take it on and really do it justice. Plus I am positive Justice League is going to blow my mind when it comes to this (Chris Terrio knows his stuff!) and whatever I tried to do would be hilarious compared to what we do get, lol.
> 
> So I happily made my peace with doing a nice character-driven story about Clark's resurrection and eventual reunion, and I admit I'm very happy with it. It also allowed me to go with some nifty symbolic/tone ideas that echo the movies so that felt good.
> 
> I have a few chapters to go and I'm excited about them. I hope you're enjoying this story as a nice mental exercise to prepare you for the eventual awesomeness of Justice League next year. :)


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The chapter everyone's been waiting for!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok here's where I apologize. So sorry guys, I didn't mean to take so long to update. I knew I'd have limited time to write last week but I didn't think I'd get screwed so very badly. Also, BVS Ultimate Edition stole a day. My bad... Then the holiday! Gah! But to make amends I now have a longer chapter that moves things along, yay! 
> 
> Thanks for all the support, kudos and comments guys, it means a lot. Hope you enjoy this chapter! :)

"Master Wayne," Alfred's voice drifted down the stairs.

Bruce didn't answer. He stood in front of the vault, taking in his suit and a new occupant now held securely in a bracket installed into the wall.

The Kryptonite spear stood at attention next to his suit. Bruce had pulled it from Doomsday and hidden it before the military arrived on the scene. He had created it, so he should hide it away again, safe from the government or anyone else's bad intentions. He had considered destroying it, but with Superman gone there didn't seem to be a point anymore. Now it was a safeguard. A reminder.

He reached out a finger and thumb to feel the end of the green spear tip, then dropped his hand to his side. It did nothing to his skin. It didn't affect him at all. But what he may have to do with it could affect him for the rest of his life. He'd already come too close.

He wanted to honor Superman's memory and the symbol of hope he was. It was frightening to imagine Clark Kent may have resurrected as everything he had never been before. Bruce now hated the idea of having to be the one to kill Superman. But if he had to, he would. For the world.

Was this his destiny? His punishment? Inescapable, unrelenting, bound to happen no matter how the events came together? It felt like the dream was crowding into reality.

Footsteps echoed down the stairwell. Diana had returned after dropping Lois at her apartment. She was already dressed for battle, her Amazon armor gleaming in the low light, lasso swinging gently on her hip. Bruce knew what she would say before the words emerged.

"Alfred is looking for you. Facial recognition got a hit. It gives us a place to start."

Bruce nodded but said nothing. He didn't turn around, just kept looking into the vault. Diana moved to stand next to him and she too considered the suit and the weapon alongside it. Though he was careful not to show it Bruce was inwardly glad she could read him well enough to know what he was thinking already. He didn't want to verbalize it.

"What did you tell me the day of the funeral?" Diana had a serious look on her face as she looked his way, dark eyes concerned.

Bruce's eyes flicked her direction and returned. He didn't need to search his memory. The words were never far from his thoughts now. It was his mantra. The continual reminder of what Superman had helped him to see again.

"Men are still good." He stared into the empty cowl.

Diana nodded, then turned to him fully. "I believed you."

Her look asked him if he still did. He deliberated, cynicism and hope taking hold in equal measure. But he said nothing, so Diana moved to the stairs, turning back halfway there to add one more thing.

"We need to go find him. Whatever happens next, this is a step we must take." She moved up the stairs with easy grace, clearly expecting him to change and follow.

Bruce considered the tip of the spear again. The truck driver had called Clark a nice guy at least twice. Clark had protected him with his own body, exactly what Bruce would expect from him. He wasn't flying. He wasn't presenting himself to loved ones. Whatever was changed, he didn't seem like a tyrannical dictator yet. Bruce still desperately wanted to believe that men were good, and that the best one was Clark Kent.

Bruce changed into his Batman suit and closed the vault. And when he did, he left the spear locked securely inside.

* * *

It was late as he wandered the streets of Gotham, aimless now. After walking to his destination he had arrived to find that nothing looked familiar. He now had nowhere to go, no plan to put in play. He explored shabby neighborhoods and tenements, followed streets that fed into busier commercial areas.

He roamed the downtown area as hours passed. He noticed the Gotham Police Department, but it didn't ring any significant bells. He watched as the rush of people and traffic ebbed into the few who were late, hurrying home to their families.

He tried to ignore the building pain that was slowly progressing up his skull, and he had to shut down his sensory perception a great deal due to the many noises that assaulted him upon entering Gotham City. There were too many yelling voices, too many city sounds that echoed though it. He wanted to keep listening for a specific sound, but since he didn't know what it was he had to admit defeat and withdraw. It frustrated him, as did the persistent feeling of nervous, on edge wariness.

He watched the city as it came to life again once nightclubs and raucous crowds began to appear. He kept moving as music pounded into the night. Now and then a jeering group would yell abuse, making fun of his glasses and suit coat, secure in their numbers. But after the car incident he wasn't afraid of them. He was more worried about something else. He needed to find something else.

Eventually it was two in the morning and bars were closing, ejecting rowdy and stumbling drunks into the streets. They too dispersed, and though he watched groups move away in various directions he tried to listen for sounds of trouble just in case, but eventually he couldn't ignore the pain in his skull.

He ducked into an alley for privacy, leaning on a nearby dumpster for a moment. Then he removed his glasses to rub his eyes briefly; they were starting to ache. He still felt anxious, out of sorts. The pain in his head was getting worse than before. Did that mean his memory was trying to return? He finished rubbing his eyes, head bowed, and moved to put his glasses back on before pausing to look at them again, considering. He laid them aside on the lid of the dumpster in front of him. He didn't need them anyway.

Looking down he realized he had gone all day wearing his jacket and tie, even when asleep in Paul's truck. It hadn't bothered him before, but it did now. It felt confining and restrictive in his current state. He pulled his tie out of its knot and slid it from his collar, then dropped it next to his glasses. It felt good so he went one step further and unbuttoned the collar of his shirt. His suit coat went next. He thumbed open the remaining buttons and shrugged it off, accidentally ripping a few more seams in his haste to feel less closed in. He dropped it next to the others.

Absently he considered his shirt, noting that it too had once been clean and pressed, before he spent an entire day in it. After a moment he realized he still felt confined. The shirt was the correct size for him, it wasn't too small and it wasn't the problem. He ran a hand down his shirt front and realized there was something on him underneath it. He'd had so many layers on he hadn't realized, or maybe it just felt natural to be dressed this way. Nevertheless, his curiosity was burning. In moments he had unbuttoned his shirt and added it to the pile. After some open-mouthed staring, his trousers and shoes completed the transformation. He looked down at himself, speechless.

Skin-tight blue fabric stretched over well-defined muscles. A soft fluttering at his back drew his attention as a crimson cape, once carefully folded to lay against his back underneath his shirt, now unfurled and fell to its proper position. It was full length, soft folds down his back to his feet, billowing ever so slightly on a small breeze.

He spread his hands and looked down at himself, taking it all in. And he knew with certainty that he had performed this motion before. But it still didn't dampen the sense of wonder, momentarily crowding out the anxiety and frustration.

Until he looked directly down and found the one element that was jarringly out of place.

A jagged tear marred the shield on his chest, interrupting the "S". He slowly ran his fingers over it, feeling the edges of shredded rent fabric and into the split that gaped open to reveal skin. The gap was large, the area where a wound had once existed was at least a few inches wide and twice as long. He rubbed his forefinger over the space. It felt numb and painful all at once, the skin smoother than surrounding areas. It was a scar.

He did bleed, then.

Just looking at it, feeling it, brought up a crashing flood of emotions. Fear and pain, loss and gut-wrenching determination all rolled through him, colliding with each other and rising with chaotic urgency. He was immediately, unbearably worried and troubled. He needed to find something he couldn't identify. Something so important. He looked around him, taking in the alley way and empty street beyond. All he could picture was a desolate war zone, lit in fire and broken buildings. This place was far from that.

He could hear the roaring sound of something huge and terrifying, so real that he immediately assumed a defensive stance, expecting to see buildings toppling under the onslaught of energy waves. His heart was pounding in his chest painfully, making the scar stretch and pulse. Somewhere he could hear the sounds of fighting; the clank of armor or a sword, and a distant thumping sound he immediately equated with distress.

He moved along the alley in a rush, unsure what was real anymore, following the sounds as fast as he could.

The world was in danger.

* * *

Bruce's batmobile still only seated one, but he had rebuilt his plane to seat two. He and Diana made sure they had working transmitters and took note of the location of the ATM camera that had caught Clark's face clearly enough to be recognized. It was in the seamier side of town, populated with nightclubs and other entertainment. Bruce stared at the image, sure it was Clark but unable to read an expression.

Bruce and Diana headed out, but not before Bruce gave Alfred a loaded look to put the older man at ease. Diana asked him to call Lois with the update. Alfred watched them go feeling much less trepidation than he had earlier. Especially when his check of the vault showed him that the spear was still inside.

He settled himself at the console and brought up the screen showing both Bruce and Diana's location, currently still inside the plane. Bruce was looking for a good place to touch down unnoticed. Alfred listened in on their conversation with mild interest. Diana was giving parking advice that Bruce was less than receptive to. If Alfred imagined it just right, they could be a comfortable married couple. It was as close to settling down that Bruce Wayne might ever get.

Alfred sighed. He'd take it.

* * *

Lois entered the apartment, and had the sudden urge to walk back out again.

Clark wasn't here. She could sense it. Not a thing was disturbed from where she had left it on her way to Martha. The space was still, dark, and devoid of life.

Lois let her bag sag to the floor, unable to hold back the disappointment. She had so wanted him to be here. But even her deep desire to see him again couldn't ignore the facts that were wrong. He hadn't gone to see Martha. He hadn't come straight here. There was something wrong.

Maybe he wasn't coming here. Was he alive but never going to come home, never going to show himself to the world again? Was he walking away from their life together, or was he not the same Clark Kent she'd fallen in love with? Her mind's eye pictured him going back to his days of wandering and odd jobs, before he'd revealed himself to the world and become the target of so much hate. But surely he wouldn't do that and never see his mother, or her?

Too many questions, too much doubt. Lois threw her bag on the couch in frustration and paced back and forth. Possibilities ran through her head, looking for any lead she could track, any option she had of finding him. There weren't many, especially if he didn't want to be found. Why would he not want to be found?

Eventually she realized almost an hour had passed while she thought things through. She still needed to do something. It was late but she didn't want to go to bed. She needed some air. She left the apartment and headed for the stairs to the roof.

The cell phone in her bag rang minutes after the door shut behind her.

* * *

Bruce and Diana didn't expect Clark to be near the ATM camera, so they weren't surprised when a cursory search of the area yielded little. But they knew he had been here and how long it had been since the camera caught him, so they split up to search the surrounding blocks and moved in opposite directions. They moved quietly and speedily, hoping to find him in the quiet hours before the early morning businesses got started. It was the best possibility, being able to handle things without many witnesses or interference. The last thing Bruce wanted was the public eye focused on any of them.

Bruce was on a rooftop, using the vantage point to scour alleys below when Diana's voice came through his transmitter.

"I found clothes in an alley, and a pair of glasses. They look like his."

Bruce paused for a moment in surprise, wondering if there was now a naked Clark Kent on the loose. A movement caught his eye, flitting past in the periphery of his vision. He moved to the edge of the roof to investigate.

Superman was rushing down the alley below, cape flitting behind him, moving straight toward him.

"I got him!" Bruce immediately shot his grappling hook into the opposite building and swung across, moving down a level and then down to street level. He landed directly in front of Superman, his face in shadow with the light behind him. Superman came to an abrupt halt, but every line of his body indicated his tension. He surveyed Batman warily. Bruce held still, noting that Superman's hands had curled into fists at his sides. Bruce looked him up and down, taking in the gash in the suit that remained.

"We've been looking for you," his mechanically altered voice rumbled in the alley, sounding far more threatening than he intended it.

Superman's jaw clenched, but he didn't move. His eyes flitted back and forth as if searching for something. Bruce watched, somewhat confused and definitely wary.

"Do you hear that?" Superman's tone was serious.

Bruce strained his ears for any kind of sound. Nothing. "Hear what?"

Superman's face tightened, almost wincing, before he spoke again. He hid it quickly, but Bruce could hear the strain in his voice with his next words. "The world...is in danger."

Bruce almost breathed a sigh of relief. He dropped his guard, eager to get Superman on board for whatever was coming. He forgot about his misgivings, he forgot about his dreams. He moved forward in a rush. If Superman was sensing something that he couldn't, Bruce wanted to know about it immediately.

"Yes. Yes it is. You need to come w—"

But the rest of his words were cut off as his hand made contact with Superman's shoulder.

"No! The world is in danger now!"

Superman's reflex was so sudden and quick Bruce didn't see it coming, only felt the sudden jarring pain in his chest as Superman halted his progress with an open palm and sent him sailing backwards. He hit the side of a building, flattening against it the full length of his back for a moment before he slid down it, unable to breathe, gasping like a fish out of water.

Barely able to function, Bruce did his best to scramble to his feet but only managed to flop weakly onto his side, his eyes trained on Superman to assess for further threat.

But Superman wasn't advancing on him. Instead he was gazing at him in horror, hands on both sides of his head and mumbling to himself. He stared upwards as if wanting to escape.

"No...no...I don't know...I can't...the world...not the world... _my world_..."

He looked at Bruce and then back at the sky. His attention was diverted for a moment as he looked behind him, and that seemed to make up his mind. He stood for a moment and braced himself, and then Superman launched himself into the sky and flew away.

Bruce struggled to breathe, the edges of his vision dimming as he fought unconsciousness, caught between reality and memories. The ache in his chest felt too familiar, just like when Superman had crushed his heart in the dream. The sound of power and rushing wind that accompanied the alien's flight seemed to usher in his worst fears. Superman was lost. The world was in danger.

_Oh God, it's happening, it's happening now. He's not the same, it's happening just like it did. It was the future I saw..._

"Bruce! Bruce! You got the wind knocked out of you, you need to breathe slowly. Just relax, relax..." Diana was there, quickly assessing him for major injury, relaying details over her transmitter to Alfred.

Bruce groaned as he tried to relax his seizing muscles and breathe, the ache in his chest alleviated somewhat, his mind racing. He didn't have the major protection of the suit he'd worn to fight Superman, but it was lucky he had reinforced the chest and torso plates of his usual suit, now that he was aware that much more powerful beings existed. His chest still hurt, but it wasn't serious. Finally he could breathe well enough to sit up. Diana helped him to his feet.

"What happened?"

Bruce shook his head. "He's not the same Clark Kent. Something is very wrong with him, he kept talking about the world being in danger," he paused to breathe a moment more, "and when I tried to get him to come with me he pushed me back. He flew away." He made a vague gesture in the direction Superman had flown.

Diana frowned. "What's wrong with him? How do we find him now?"

Alfred was silent on the transmitter, so he clearly had no leads. Bruce tried to gather his thoughts and separate reality and dream. He pulled back the hazy recollection of Superman's babble before he left. But only two recalled words made the blood drain from his face as he made the connection.

_My world...she was my world..._

Lois was the key. Bruce could practically feel the world crumbling into chaos and desolation around him.

"Alfred, call Lois right now."

"I already tried ten minutes ago. She didn't answer."

"Call her again." Bruce turned to Diana, who immediately grasped the urgency in Bruce's behavior as they headed back to the plane at a dead run. "We need to get to Lois. Now."

* * *

Superman's panicked flight into the sky didn't end in Gotham. He climbed higher and higher, the pain in his skull building unbearably, his thoughts whirling, memories colliding with fear and horror.

He hadn't meant to hurt anyone. The black bat might be a threat to him, but his feeling of urgency in following the sound was of greater importance. He'd thought it was going to end in a fight once he recognized the figure as he landed in front of him. The one who had asked him if he bled. But he had tried to get the other to understand the bigger problem. Once the other had rushed at him he had reacted instinctively, spurred on by the urgency he still felt. The world was in danger. Still, it wasn't until he sensed approaching footsteps that he felt it was safe to leave him. Flying had been instinct, natural as breathing once he was wearing only this suit.

But the more he thought about it and the more he allowed memories to creep in despite the pain in his head, the more he had realized that it wasn't the world. It was _his_ world. His world was distressed, his world in danger. But he still wasn't sure what the difference was.

He pushed to the upper atmosphere before he was calm enough to realize that he couldn't hear the sound anymore. All of the sounds were gone, but lack of the one that was the most important was what turned him around and brought him back to earth. He flew back to Gotham and hovered above it, carefully opening his senses, ignoring the pain in his head, seeking that one sound.

Finally he caught it, but it wasn't in Gotham. He followed it, flying closer to and then into Metropolis. He passed a large open area and buildings that brought prickles of memory, but he pushed them away to keep following the sound. Eventually it brought him to a multi-storied old brick building. It was so close. The sound, that pattern of lub-dub that he felt had embedded itself in his mind forever ago, was accelerated and even the sound of it troubled him. He paused, poised in the sky, to locate the final destination, and then moved to meet it.

When he finally located the source he stood speechless and surprised for several moments. He could never have anticipated what it would be.

* * *

Lois didn't come up to the roof very often. She was too busy working, chasing a story or lately, a metahuman. Besides, she had never really appreciated the charm of a rooftop stargazing session until Clark coaxed her up one warm summer evening, teasing her that she worked too hard and needed to enjoy life. They had sat together on cheap lawn chairs left for tenants who needed some air, and he had held her hand while he pointed to various stars and constellations. He told her how he used to lay in the yard as a boy on the farm, studying the night sky. Especially after he had learned how his parents had found him. He had studied each star and wondered where he came from and who he really was.

Those questions had been answered, but it didn't help Lois know where he was now. Lois studied the stars hopelessly. Clark wasn't out there. She had been sure she would find him by now. Or that he would find her.

She didn't sit in the lawn chairs. She stood in the center of the roof, unable to commit to a real visit to this place. In the end, after too long left to her own thoughts, too many doubts and worries, Lois just sank to her knees.

She felt pushed down by the loss of Clark a second time. The pain and despair she had felt kneeling with his head in her lap overwhelmed her, pushing to the fore until she realized her eyes were full of tears. She closed them and felt them spill, hot and scalding, down her cheeks. She didn't know what to do anymore. She didn't know why he wouldn't come home.

Her eyes were closed, and so she didn't notice the whisper of wind that blew up, nor did she see the red boots that gently touched down in front of her. So when she opened her eyes, she was unprepared for the sight of Superman standing there, an indescribable look on his face.

Her gasp of surprise was the only sound between them. They looked at each other as the silence stretched. Her disbelieving joy gave way to worry as she took in his face. He was staring at her as if he'd never seen her before, but there was something indefinable in his eyes. A yearning desperation. A profound confusion. It was him, but it wasn't.

She looked at him, really taking him in, now slightly wary. "Clark?"

He could feel it, the cusp of everything he didn't know, ready to unfurl into forgotten memories. He was so close, looking at her. But the pain that had been building for so long behind his eyes was finally coming to a head, and it took him by surprise when it finally peaked.

Heat vision burst out of his eyes, and it was only the last minute jerk of his head that saved her. It scorched the roof until he put a hand in front of it, burned himself, and focused skyward instead.

But suddenly everything was chaos around them at the same time. Lois had cried out in surprise and fear, not expecting to be on the receiving end of heat vision. But before she had even completed the sound her remaining breath was yanked from her lungs as Batman grappled in and out, taking her with him. As she watched, her vision shaky and jerking with the swinging motion, she could see Diana had moved in on Clark and thrown her lasso around his arms, pulling it tight to restrain him. He turned her way, and Diana threw up her shield to deflect the searing twin beams.

"What are you doing?" Lois yelled at Bruce, struggling against his grip. "Clark's down there!" They were on the ledge of the next building over, and he was taking aim at another one, working to get them higher.

"He's not who he was!"

They grappled higher to the roof of yet another building before he deemed it safe enough to look back. Lois threw off his hand, craning to look at the roof they had just left. Clark's heat vision had given out for a moment, and Lois could see Diana was attempting to talk to him. But Clark was barely listening to her, and he was too busy straining at his bonds to give her words any weight. Lois could see the strength he was exerting even from here, and his face was aimed at Lois.

"Let me...go!" Clark's bellow echoed out to Lois. Diana was bracing against the lasso, doing her best to hold him in place, but it was a precarious position at best. What if Clark flew away? Diana could get hurt. Lois turned to Bruce.

"Let me talk to him."

Bruce immediately shook his head. "No. He attacked me, we can't take the chance. He just tried to kill you! He's not the man he was. I don't know who this is." He was poised, trying to decide if Diana needed his help or not, and how they were going to handle this. He had to keep Lois safe, but he also had to neutralize the threat. He feared Superman now, just as the messenger had told him to, and what the future could be. He needed to end this now.

"He didn't! I think he was as surprised as I was! He turned his head. Clark would never hurt me, he's always been there for me every t—" She stopped abruptly. Bruce wasn't listening anyway, and she had a sudden thought.

Perry had rolled his eyes at how often Superman had saved her, and he didn't know the half of it. But Clark had always been there to catch her, and if there was any bit of him in there, he still would. Lois knew what she had to do.

She took three big steps to the edge of the roof and hurled herself off it.

Bruce caught sight of her movement on the second step. Years of developed reflexes came into play as he moved instinctively after her. He grappled a hook into the wall next to them and in the same motion dove the last few feet of the roof, managing to catch an arm in the last remaining second. He lay there, pulled in two different directions, one hand holding the grappling gun and the other dangling halfway off the roof into thin air, gripping Lois Lane.

"What are you doing?" His voice was overflowing with disbelieving shock.

Lois spared a glance back to Clark and Diana. Clark was close to pulling free, and Diana was severely hampered in her efforts not to hurt him. Things were going to go bad any moment. There was no more time. She turned to look up at Bruce, her eyes spitting blue fire. "Let go!"

Bruce stared at her, part of him realizing what she was trying to accomplish but the other terrified that this was how it all went down. This could be the start of it all. He was frozen for long seconds that felt like an eternity, feeling as if this moment was inescapable. Maybe there was no way to avoid it. He had helped bring them here, and he had helped make this happen. He and Lex Luthor.

Still, Lois was the key. Did he trust her? Did he save her? He didn't know which one was right. He did know one thing. If and when he met that future messenger, he was going to punch him hard. All the message had done was make him second guess every move after Clark's death.

But it didn't change what it all had taught him. Men were still good. Clark had died believing that, and Bruce would die fighting for it. Whatever happened. The echoing message from the future overwhelmed his mind as he looked into the determined face of Lois Lane. Lois Lane was the key.

He closed his eyes. And then he let go.

However many times she had fallen, Lois never liked the swooping sensation that came with realizing there was nothing underneath to hold her. She couldn't stop the scream that was pulled from her body as she dropped, but maybe that was for the better. Clark's head snapped up immediately, and any effort he'd been expending to breaking the lasso quickly turned to shedding it. His lurching desperation to take flight resulted in Diana being pulled suddenly to her knees, and the resulting slack allowed him to slip out of it and take to the sky.

He intercepted Lois halfway down and shot straight up, the two of them clutched together, rising higher and higher, passing Bruce on his rooftop and finally slowing just above a much taller one. Clark slowly drifted them down to land on their feet, his eyes never leaving her face. Once they were both on their feet he looked down at her, taking in her hopeful face. She could see his eyes clearing, becoming more and more the way he had looked at her as Clark Kent, even as the dawning horror of the latest events dawned on him. He sank to his knees, weak as everything came together in his head, and she went with him.

"Lo—Lois, I'm sorry." He was giving her that worried look, that Clark Kent look.

Relief flooded her. She gave him a smile, teary but happy. "For what? You came back to me." Her hands held each side of his face, her thumbs rubbing his cheekbones. God, she had missed him so much. Her eyes were caught by the gaping hole in his suit, and she moved a hand from his face to touch it gently, soberly.

His hidden memory flowed into place as he held her, bringing up his own hand to caress her cheek. Lex Luthor and the fight with Batman, Doomsday and his final choice ran through his head. He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close, breathing heavily. His world. His Lois. He didn't know what he'd be without her.

Her eyes rose up to meet his, understanding clear on her face, and it was perfectly natural to kiss her. They held each other a few moments more, until finally he moved to stand up and help her to her feet. He looked down at Diana far below, now relaxed and coiling her lasso, smiling up at them, and Bruce, who was still leaning out over his building, holding onto the grappling hook and watching them closely. Clark gave Lois a quizzical look.

"How long have I been gone?"

She laughed, still overcome. "Too long, Clark. Too long." She kissed his cheek.

Down below, Bruce had seen enough to put his mind at ease. Clark Kent was back, and he was really Clark Kent. He was moving to pull himself in, adding extra stress on the grappling line and the wall it was embedded in, when the hook burst out of the wall. The weak bricks and mortar of the building had been barely holding him up, and the strain was now too much. He was suddenly in motion, flipping out off the building and into the air, arms flailing. Clark made a move to fly and Diana was already running to attempt an interception when Bruce managed to grab a fire escape railing. He slammed into the rail, growling with pain, but hauled himself up and over to safety. He stood, bent over and breathing heavily, still gripping the railing, but it was enough to put the others at ease.

Clark was slowly descending with Lois in his arms to meet Diana when Bruce put together what could have happened. He glanced up at the building his grappling hook had burst out of and realized with the added weight of another person it would have given way much sooner. Had he hesitated much longer, he _and_ Lois could have gone flying. Being who he was, he probably still would have saved himself, but Lois might not have fared so well. He wouldn't have been able to reach her. Clark might not have been able to free himself soon enough, or been distracted with the two of them. Lois might have hit her head on a fire escape or fallen much further to the pavement. She could have died.

A chill swept Bruce as he considered how easily things could gave gone bad. Maybe they could have had that future after all.

Now he wasn't sure whether to be angry at the future messenger or thank him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think this story is drawing to a close, I can foresee one chapter more to wrap things up. I'll try to get it done pronto with much less waiting. :) Thanks for reading!


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Refer to the title of this work. ;)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay here it is, the final chapter and it's a whopper. Thanks for waiting! Really, if I had time I could just keep going and going with this, but I'm going to stop here lol. Only a few things I couldn't mash in. Oh well.
> 
> And for all of you who mentioned the idea of tying this into the first chapter/one shot, don't worry that's exactly how I roll and I was already planning to. You called it, high fives all around! :D

Alfred hadn't seen so many people in the lair ever, as far as he could remember. Bruce was standing with his arms crossed, deep in his own thoughts while he scrutinized Lois and Clark, who never got further than a few steps from each other.

Diana was leaning against a nearby console listening. Bruce had questions he wanted answered and no one was leaving until he got them. Clark was just finishing up his story. His memory loss and slow regaining of his powers made a lot of sense. The others were nodding as the pieces fell into place.

"I didn't remember everything until I caught you, Lois. That brought back a lot of memories." Clark was looking at her with a soft smile that Lois was returning.

Bruce was still frowning their way, concentrating. "So you were having flashbacks of me as a threat?"

Clark looked somewhat abashed. "Yeah. Sorry about that. It was hard to know what was real."

Alfred's eyebrows shot sky high. He spoke before Bruce could get a word in. "No hard feelings. After all, you couldn't _remember_ him as a threat unless he'd actually _been_ one." He gave Bruce a censuring parental look.

The air became thick with added tension, the others suddenly looking at the ground or another point of interest. Bruce wisely remained silent. He dropped his arms and approached Clark, giving Alfred a narrow look on his way past. He held out his hand to Clark and waited. Sure enough, Clark took it and the men shook hands.

"Welcome back, Clark Kent." Bruce's tone as always was a bit gruff, but he looked Clark in the eye as he said it.

Clark nodded in reply, not failing to note that Bruce's eye trailed down to take in the hole in his suit. "I never got to thank you for saving my mother—"

Bruce cut him off with a wave of his hand. "That was definitely my pleasure." Alfred hid a smile.

With a final nod of thanks, Clark turned to Diana. "I'm sorry, I don't think we were ever formally introduced."

Diana smiled and shook his hand too. "Diana Prince."

"Nice to officially meet you. Where are you from?"

As Diana and Clark chatted, Alfred was distracted by his phone and moved away to answer it. Diana presented Clark with the clothing he'd abandoned in the alley, complete with glasses. Clark accepted them with a smile.

"Thank you. Now if no one minds, there's someone I really need to go see." The others bid Lois and Clark farewell. Bruce sidled up to Lois.

"About that drive you were given..."

Lois gasped. "Oh right! I forgot about that! I'll email you everything tonight." Bruce gave her a nod and a smile. Lois led the way out as she and Clark departed.

"Master Wayne?" Alfred beckoned Bruce over to the corner he was in. He had completed his call and was just pocketing his phone. His face was suddenly very serious. Bruce moved immediately to him and the two conferred in quiet voices. Diana wasn't trying to eavesdrop but still caught a few phrases, especially when Bruce spoke, tension clear in every line of his body.

"...never the purpose they were designed for..." Bruce was poker-straight, expelling a breath through bared teeth.

"—aware of that Master Wayne, but nevertheless..."

"...how many and who?"

Diana observed without appearing to as Alfred listed several names. Bruce's jaw became more and more set with every one. Especially the last one. Bruce closed his eyes for a moment, as if a pronouncement of doom had been made.

"...what his latest movements are?"

"I'd have to check..."

"—evermind, we know what he'll do." Bruce abruptly realized Diana was still in the room and made his way to her. Alfred immediately went to the computer console and began pulling up data.

"Trouble?" Diana was definitely concerned. Bruce looked much more disturbed than usual.

"I have to go handle a problem." The muscle in his jaw ticked.

"Need any help?"

Bruce shook his head. "No. I should deal with this alone. We can't afford to take any more time away from our mission. You stay here and keep trying to locate the metahumans. Lois promised she'd email the information she received. I have a contact in the military who's been digging for me, I gave him your number. I think he'll call soon."

"Are you sure?" Diana wasn't about to let him go off on some kind of suicide mission by himself.

"Yes. I'm taking the car." He turned Alfred's way. "Where am I going, Alfred?'

Alfred had just pulled up a map on the screen. "Midway, sir."

"Right." He turned to Diana and gave her a nod, which she assumed meant goodbye. Diana was no stranger to keeping secrets, and she knew what it was like to have a past and not be eager to share details about it. She respected Bruce and his abilities, so she respected his choice to deal with whatever had risen from his past alone. Still, she knew as well as anyone that humans could be killed, and unlike Clark Kent they wouldn't rise from the dead.

And he looked almost frigid, his jaw was so tight. His face like glass. Diana knew he'd been working to improve his methods since Superman died, but this was looking like a situation that could bring back some bad habits. Diana looked him full in the face.

"Don't forget. Men are still good."

He gave her a half smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. "Find the meta humans. We're going to need them. And keep an eye on Clark and Lois, too." He headed out toward the stairs, presumably to get his suit and whatever weapons from his arsenal he thought he might need.

Diana looked quickly at Alfred's computer screen. Mug shots or surveillance photos were lined up to display what could only be described as a motley assortment of various people. Another screen showed satellite pictures of what looked to be a virtually empty city.

She sat down at her own computer and, after a moment of thought, started looking up myths and legends. Her mother had once entertained her with tales of water people. She'd thought they were just stories. It was a long shot, but maybe it would get her somewhere.

* * *

Martha brushed some stray dirt off Jonathan's gravestone and considered the disturbed earth under Clark's. Pete had taken down the tape after the forensics expert completed his work and released the grave from its crime scene status. Now there was nothing left but a gaping hole where her son had once been.

She knew Clark wasn't here anymore, but she didn't know where else to go. Her husband was still here, and she needed whatever comfort she could get at the moment. Lois hadn't called since she left the day before. Martha had spent a restless night waiting for any word of Clark's whereabouts, but dawn had arrived and still nothing. Martha ran a hand over her face and crossed her arms, holding herself together. She was tired. She wished Jonathan were here to hold her. She missed him too.

"Mom?"

She whirled to stare down the road.

And there he was, striding past fields in jeans and a flannel shirt, no glasses, looking as if he'd just returned home after a wandering journey like he'd done so many times before.

Tears pricked her eyes. "Clark..." Even from yards away she could see his brilliant smile as he picked up his pace, rushing to meet her. She only made it several steps before he closed the distance between them and engulfed her in a hug. His strong arms were reassuring and gentle as ever, his broad shoulder the perfect resting place. She dampened his shirt with her tears as he held her, her broken voice mumbling into his chest.

"My baby boy...my baby boy..."

"I'm okay, Mom. Sorry. I'm so sorry." He laid his cheek on her hair. Lois was behind him, having approached more slowly, and Martha caught a glimpse of her smiling but teary face. She extended a hand to include her, and Lois gladly moved into their hug. The three stood in the graveyard and cherished their second chance.

Martha insisted they stay a while, and neither could refuse her. Clark helped her in the kitchen as Lois sat at the table and gave all the details of the past day. Clark was filled in on the events of the last months and the three enjoyed a meal together. Clark looked up every so often, and if Martha wasn't looking at him with a look that said she still couldn't believe her eyes, then Lois was. It couldn't be more clear how much he had been mourned, not that he ever doubted it.

Eventually Lois, who had been up all night and into the next day, began to sag. Clark was doing marginally better but didn't refuse a chance to lay down. They retired up to Clark's room for a rest while Martha ran into town for dinner supplies.

They barely fit on Clark's bed together, but they made do and neither complained about having to cuddle close. Lois lay with Clark's arm around her, secure between him and the wall and lulled by his heartbeat, her head resting on his chest opposite the scar. Clark was looking at the ceiling, taking in the planets that had been there since his childhood. One of Lois' hands was tucked between their bodies and his own reached across to hold it, tracing her fingers absently. Lois was almost asleep when his voice rumbled in his chest.

"You're still my world, Lo." His thumb was rubbing up and down a finger. Even half asleep, Lois could recognize the worried quality in his tone. She tried to surface long enough to reply.

"I know. You're mine too." She couldn't hold off sleep anymore and let it roll over her, unaware that Clark was still staring at the ceiling and deep in thought.

After dinner Martha looked at Clark across her empty plate. "So, how are you going to resurrect Clark Kent without raising suspicion?"

Clark frowned at his plate. "I'm not really sure."

Lois reached across the table to put her hand on his. "We'll figure it out," she reassured with a smile. Clark nodded but Lois didn't miss how quickly he looked away from her. It was disconcerting, especially since that wasn't how he had ever looked at her.

Martha was smiling fondly at them both, looking far lighter than she had in the last eight months. "I'm sure you will."

Clark said nothing, just smiled at them.

* * *

They went home that night, and before bed they discussed what should be done regarding bringing Clark Kent back from his current dead status. They didn't have any clear answers yet, so they agreed Clark should keep a low profile until they figured it out. Clark asked her to locate Paul for him, so he could pay the man back for his kindness, and Lois readily agreed. She eventually remembered to send Bruce the information from the drive as well, though it was Diana who texted to remind her about it.

The next three days passed quickly. Lois located Paul and aside from a quick trip out to unload his trailer for him (quickly and anonymously, of course) as a thank you, Clark stayed close to home. He spent some time soaking up extra sun, and gradually the scar on his chest began to lighten. But it was the other things Lois noticed that concerned her more.

Clark didn't put Superman's suit on again. It lay neatly folded away in their closet, under the loose floorboard Clark had pulled up when they moved in. As far as Lois could tell, he wasn't watching the news to stay abreast of possible calamities so he could help. He rarely left the apartment. He was loving as ever, but he never once mentioned the ring she was still wearing, or the proposal that had been planned before he died. In fact he seemed to be avoiding holding the hand that wore it altogether. He tended to change the subject or shy away from discussions about Clark Kent and how to bring him back. His glasses stayed folded on the bedside table, unworn. He seemed to be spinning his wheels.

It wasn't until the third day at work that Lois suddenly realized what was going on. She was sitting at her desk, fingering the ring, when the memory of that half asleep moment at the farm came back.

" _You're still my world."_

His thumb had found her ring finger, and he had been running it over the ring. His worried voice came back to her. Worried and sad. _Still my world...still..._ Everything clicked.

Lois quit earlier than usual and headed out, brushing past Perry on her way.

"Whoa, Lois! Where's the fire!" He stared after her but she ignored him and headed to the elevators. He shook his head. Lois had never been the same since Clark Kent died. But none of them had been, really.

He turned to go find Jenny.

* * *

Lois unlocked the door of their apartment and entered, confident on what she would find. Sure enough Clark was in the kitchen, trying to decide what to start for dinner. He looked at her with surprise.

"You're home early. Everything all right?"

Lois put her bag down and kissed him first. His arms went around her immediately. Lois pulled back after and gave him a serious look. "Clark I need to talk to you."

He returned her gaze, and she could see the reservation in his eyes, but he nodded. "Okay."

They moved to the couch and sat down on opposite ends. Clark waited while Lois collected herself. This felt more like an interview than a talk with her boyfriend, mostly because she knew Clark didn't really want to tell her what he was thinking. But she was never one to hide from the truth.

"Clark, why haven't you worn the suit? Why don't you want to be Clark Kent again?"

His eyes lowered, his closed mouth working for a moment before he said it. "Maybe it's just better if Superman stays dead."

He looked up at her face quickly as if expecting her to argue with him. But she'd known what he was going to say and stayed quiet, waiting for more. He shrugged. "The world wasn't ready. My father knew it. He was right. I thought I could change things but I couldn't. I just made things worse. I think I should stay in the shadows and help where I can, like I did before."

Lois looked at him, silent. If Clark went back to his earlier ways, he'd be traveling the country and probably the world as an anonymous stranger. Clark Kent wouldn't be revived, making it even more difficult to track him down this time. He'd be a ghost again, a shadow. It was a lonely position without any real place for a partner and companion. She knew Clark, how he operated, so she also new he would never ask her to leave the life and job she loved. That was why he hadn't proposed. He loved her, but he was going to leave. The last days had been borrowed time, trying to get as much as he could before he left for good. And he would never ask her to wait for him, or to live from visit to visit. That was no kind of life. He was going to let her go.

She held back the fury inside that he would even think about coming back from the grave and then abandon her all over again. She understood what he was trying to say and do, however wrong he might be. He was trying to do the right thing, as always. Knowing him, he felt it would protect her and Martha as well. But it would be the wrong move.

She managed to keep her emotions in check and stood up, extending her hand.

"Come with me."

His look was baffled and somewhat wary, his brows pulled down. But he took her hand and left the apartment with her. She had him put on his glasses and he had a basic Henley on so she hoped the neighbors wouldn't take notice and suspect anything odd. They had never been overly friendly with the other occupants, but surely they had noticed she had been living alone for eight months. She hurried him through the apartment building just in case. Once they were on the street she walked him down the block to the nearest bus stop. Clark stood in confusion.

"You never liked taking the bus. You always preferred a taxi."

Lois was checking the bus schedule, looking for the best route. It was almost five in the evening and people were just getting out of work, the city streets filling with citizens. She hoped this worked. She gave him a coy look. "I've learned to appreciate it."

When the first bus came, Lois shook her head and laid a hand on Clark's arm to indicate he should hold back. When the second one came she checked the sign on the front to make sure it was the right route and they both got on. Lois guided Clark towards the back, deeper into the cluster of people and they both sat down. Lois smiled at his befuddlement and slid her fingers into his. "Make sure you're looking out the windows."

Clark gave her the classic look he always had when he was trying to solve a mystery but complied. The bus jerked into motion and rolled down the street.

It was a good five minutes before the bus got to the area Lois was looking for. She had discovered months ago that this particular bus route went past the absolute most locations that lent her comfort on bad days. She pointed to draw Clark's attention. "Look."

Clark peered out the window. A soup kitchen already had a line of people waiting outside, even though it wouldn't open for another twenty minutes. The writing on the window read "Superman's Pantry", complete with the shield sporting the easily recognized 'S'. Clark watched it disappear as the bus rumbled past, but Lois was already directing his gaze to a clothing donation center that also sported the shield. A sign read **Lift Someone Up** **Friends Center** with the shield below.

The bus had filled up even more. They both gave up their spots to an older couple and stood in the aisle, swaying back and forth with one hand holding the bar. Lois could see the next item of interest but Clark had to bend his knees to truly see it once she pointed it out.

The mural took up one whole side of a building, done in colorful bright paint. A faceless group of people were all wearing t-shirts with the symbol of the House of El, and they were all helping others in various ways. One scene depicted a group of people clustered together to lift another above their heads. One was assisting someone who had fallen, another handing out food, and yet another group clearly intervening in what was an artistically rendered crime. One had their arms stretched around a group of huddled children, protecting them from some unknown threat. The large words occupied the bottom of the building, placed where anyone walking past could see and absorb them.

Be a Hero. Help one. Help all.

And so it continued, example after example of people helping each other, and every one with a shield displayed somewhere. Clark was crouched so low that he felt permanently bent that way, but he didn't want to miss anything. An observing elderly lady smiled indulgently and addressed Lois.

"First time in the city?"

"Um, more or less," Lois hedged. Clark was craning to see the shelter that advertised help seeking jobs as well. The shield and its 'S' were cleverly arranged within the mission statement. "Bringing Hope to Metropolis Citizens" with the shield in place of the word "Hope".

"He's lucky he came nowadays, and not before. Remember before? It was dog eat dog." Clark glanced at her, struck by the words.

Lois smiled. "Yes it was."

When the bus pulled in front of Heroes Park, Clark balked. "We don't need to go here."

Lois met his eyes, understanding but determined. "Yes, we do." Clark reluctantly exited the bus with her and stood on the sidewalk, his eyes scanning the large area.

He was surprised that the large statue of Superman had not been rebuilt, but it was a relief in a way. He had never liked it and would have been content with just the granite walls bearing names of the victims. But he didn't even see that anymore.

Lois squeezed his hand as they walked into the park. They walked past large groups and visiting people, Clark glanced at the reflecting pools that ran up to the center. His wavering image danced on the water. When they reached the center Clark took in the shield and words added below it. His jaw worked and he blinked several times. Lois touched his arm. He met her eyes, unable to express what he was feeling, but she could read it easily.

Hope.

She smiled again, softly. "Maybe the world wasn't ready before. But now, it just might be."

Clark looked around the park, overcome. Lois led him to a bench. He had just sat down when a voice hailed Lois from a distance away. Two men approached, one still dusty from construction work and the other fidgeting nervously.

"Ms. Lane! Fancy meeting you here!"

Lois approached them with a smile, leaving Clark on the bench. "Roger, it's good to see you again."

Roger moved to shake hands and then remembered he was missing one. "Whoops, sorry, you'll have to shake this one!" He offered his left, which Lois shook. "Hey, I want you to meet someone. This is Lee, the man I helped before, and now the best construction area cleanup crew member in Metropolis! You could say he was my right hand now," he chuckled as he turned to his friend.

Lois breathed a delighted sigh of happiness as her eyes flickered to Clark. She couldn't have asked for better. "So nice to meet you, Lee." She shook Lee's hand and settled into conversation with both of them, asking about Roger's son, how he was adapting to one-handed life, Lee's new job and circumstances. Lee was quiet but responsive, and it was clear he was nervous about his reception. Roger patted his shoulder reassuringly. Lois wondered if Lee had found help and gotten some medication to help stabilize him. Probably. And she was pretty sure Roger had been spearheading the process.

Clark listened and watched how the sunlight played in her hair as she talked, taking it all in. The sun was moving lower in the sky, painting the park in warm golden tones. He surveyed the park again, eavesdropping on conversations going on in Heroes Park. Almost all were about doing something. Helping people. Living up to the standard set by a hero in blue. It was uplifting, but also nerve wracking. He'd felt this way before. He'd thought he might be accepted. Then it had all gone wrong.

He was so involved in listening to other discussions it took him a moment to realize that someone else had sat on his same bench. He looked down and found a serious-looking child of maybe eight quietly studying him. He returned serious look for serious look. Eventually the child broke their staring contest and looked down at the notebook he was clutching. It was a small pocket-sized calendar. The shield with its 'S' had been painstakingly applied to the front, worked into the thin cardboard with colored pens. Clark bent an inquisitive eye at it.

"What's that?"

The child studied him a moment before deciding it was safe to show him, though Clark was gratified to see him glance at what must be his mother standing nearby before he did.

"It's my 'Do A Good Deed' book." He shifted the pen so he could open it and show Clark a random calendar week, each day carefully filled in with a good deed done for someone. "See? One for each day, more if I get the chance." Clark surreptitiously scanned the earlier dates and was impressed to note that each day since January first had been filled in.

"That's neat. Good job." Clark smiled at the child, who returned it with a grin that was missing a tooth and launched into more conversation.

"Mom helped me do it, because I told her when I get older I want to be a hero like Superman. And she said 'Why not start now?'"

Clark smiled again, but it had a sad tinge to it this time. "Sometimes the world doesn't thank you for helping, though."

The child considered this carefully. He looked at the shield plaque, looking a bit sad, and then turned a solemn face up to Clark. "It's still the right thing to do."

Clark stared at him, struck. "You're right. It is."

Having now won the discussion, the child smiled and jumped off the bench. "Mom! Let's go help someone!" His mother gave him a look Clark recognized immediately and followed.

Lois had finished up her conversation with Roger and Lee and bid them both goodbye, then moved over to Clark, who was now waiting next to the bench. She gave him a tiny smile and took his hand.

They walked in silence to the bus stop.

Clark was quiet all the way home. Once they made it up to the apartment, they were barely in the door when Clark discarded his glasses and cupped Lois' face, lowering his lips to hers in a passionate kiss. Lois eagerly returned it. He slowly walked her backwards toward the bedroom, stopping only once as they passed through a beam of late evening sunlight streaming through the living room window. Lois gave him a questioning look, but he was too busy softly running his hands through her hair, watching the light play on it as it fell. He gently brushed it back from her face, his eyes clear and full of tenderness. He looked like a man with a new lease on life. Seeing that look she hadn't seen in so long, Lois was overcome and pulled him down for another kiss. They slowly made their way to the bedroom, leaving a trail of clothing on the floor.

Dinner could wait.

The sun was streaming through the window onto the bed, bathing the room in a golden glow. When Clark's shirt came off Lois brushed a wondering finger over his chest. The scar was almost entirely gone, his chest hair starting to regrow over it. Another day of sun and no one would ever know it had been there. Clark looked down as well, and when he smiled at her it was brighter than the sunlight pouring in. He gathered Lois in his arms, and she was all too willing to let him.

Clark gently laid her on the bed and joined her there, savoring every moment.

For the first time since they had found each other again, it felt like Clark had truly come home.

* * *

A soft noise woke Lois later that night. She checked her clock and found it was after two in the morning, then abruptly realized she was alone in bed.

"Clark?" She sat up slightly.

Clark's form emerged from the darkened closet, barely visible in the shadows. "Sorry. I was trying not to wake you."

The dim light filtering through the curtains let her see he had something in one hand but not what it was. His face was too dark to see his expression.

"What are you doing?"

"I need to go do something. I'll be back."

There was a momentary pause as she processed that information. "Do you want me to come?"

"No, it's better if I go alone. I'm not leaving, I promise." He approached the bed and leaned down to kiss her. That seemed to reassure her somewhat, but her hands clung to him slightly longer than they normally would have. He understood. "You're off tomorrow, right?"

"Yes." She was trying to adjust her eyes to the darkness so she could read his expression.

"Can we go see Mom again?"

That did it. Her fingers relaxed their hold on him, and she kissed his cheek which in the darkness actually ended up on his jawline. Neither minded. "Of course."

"Thank you." He kissed her again for good measure and left the room. After a quick stop in the living room he stealthily made his way out of the apartment and up to the roof. The cool air slid through the tear in his suit but he didn't mind the cold. The red cape drifted in the breeze behind him as he got his bearings and propelled himself into the sky.

Down in their bedroom, Lois heard the barely discernible sound, but her practiced ears recognized it for what it was. She rolled over, her brain working, and eventually smiled into her pillow. It was just as well. Her bed was too comfy right now. She'd keep it warm for him.

The scout ship was still where it had been. It looked almost the same, though now there was evidence that a large hole in the top of the structure over it had been patched. Clark hovered above it momentarily, scanning for the best unobtrusive entrance. He located a weak point in the metal framework on one side and waited for the security guards to move past before he landed lightly next to it. After a quick look around to ensure no one was near he bent the metal outward enough to allow him access and slipped in.

He hadn't been back to the scout ship since the day he crash landed it during the battle of Metropolis until _that_ night. He had punched through and landed to confront Lex, only to find he had created Doomsday. After Zod, Clark had thought it would be better to allow the government access to it, since they couldn't really get into the inner chambers, and let him know he was fully cooperating.

But politicians could be bought, and someone who hated him could and had done a lot of damage because he had been able to get all the way in. Clark took in the mess of the main control room and kept going, heading for one of the outer corridors that connected to it. He slowed down once he found the right one, remembering how he had once walked with Jor-El down this very chamber, and wondered if perhaps it was better this time to remove the scout ship altogether and make it impossible to get to. If he put it back near the north pole it would be a solitary fortress, almost impenetrable by humankind. It was a thought.

He unconsciously held his breath as he activated one door after another in what was essentially a long corridor of closets. He knew it was a long shot, but he was really hoping there would have been spares of some kind brought along for such a long excursion, especially if the original goal was colonization.

He found similar suits, both colored and dark but all with the wrong crest, behind door after door. One door revealed some random items that looked to be sewing and Krypton clothing repair supplies. He plucked a spool of red crimson thread out of a container of varied colors. He tugged at it to test its strength and noted that it felt like a more delicate but incredibly stronger fishing line. Halfway there. He took that with him.

He couldn't remember which one had ultimately held what his father had bequeathed to him, but the second to last one must have been it because the holding device the suit had once rested on was now empty. Clark felt a leaping sensation as he quickly searched the equivalent of Kryptonian drawers and cupboards until he found the right one. He held his new find up to the light, appraising it.

The crest for the House of El gleamed back at him. Clark's eyes were bright as he stared at it. It felt like Jor-El was close again. He savored the feeling. He checked to make sure it fit the same area the ripped one on his chest did, and once he was satisfied it did he closed everything up and left.

On his way out he carefully bent back the metal to cover his tracks and flew away, making a mental note to scout for locations in the north pole the next chance he got.

When he got back home, Lois was warm and waiting.

* * *

Martha was delighted when they turned up on her porch again. She hugged them both and asked how long they could stay.

"Probably not too long," Clark admitted. "Mom," he put his duffle bag on the table and opened it to show her what was inside. "I need some help. Do you think this is something you can work with?"

Martha peered inside and realized she was looking at his suit. She reached in and pulled it out, along with a new crest and some odd Kryptonian looking thread. She held the suit by the shoulders and forced herself to look at the gaping hole that still showed traces of blood on the edges. She glanced up at her son, who was anxiously awaiting her reaction, and felt her throat go dry.

"You're going back out there."

There was a bare hesitation before he nodded. Martha could see his worry that she might take it badly or refuse. Lois was paused in the doorway to the kitchen, silent but watchful, her eyes full of understanding.

The kitchen was silent as Martha fingered the torn crest. She reached inside to check the inner seams and connecting points, though each of them knew she was stalling for time. Finally she looked up.

"If this thread is anything like the fabric I'm going to need something strong enough to cut through it. I don't think even my best Ginghers can do the job." She looked him in the eye, letting him know exactly what she was consenting to.

Clark's worry melted into a grateful smile. "I love you, Mom." He wrapped her in a hug that she returned.

"I love you too, son." She put both hands on either side of his face, like she had when he was younger, and smiled at him in the midst of her worry. It was the classic look of a mother who loved and worried about her child but would never think of asking him to change. "Do you think your laser eye trick would cut it?"

Clark blushed. "I call it heat vision, and sure I can give it a try." His mother patted his cheek with a fondly exasperated look and moved to talk with Lois.

After Martha figured out how to work with fabric and thread from another planet, then had Clark cut the pieces that needed it, she got to work. Lois and Clark found themselves with little to do while they waited. Clark coaxed her outside for a walk.

They strolled up the road to the graveyard and passed it, wandering along fields of wheat that were now golden and tall, their heads bowed toward the earth. It was ready. Clark held her hand and put his other out to softly brush the waving stalks. Lois closed her eyes a moment, enjoying the warm sunshine on her face.

"Lo," Clark came to an abrupt halt, startling her eyes open again. He moved to stand in front of her and lifted both of her hands in his. She followed his gaze down to her fingers. The engagement ring was glittering in the sun, prominently displayed.

Clark gave her a rueful look. "I wanted to surprise you. But there didn't seem to be a good time, and then..." his voice drifted off.

Lois smiled. She slipped the ring off her finger and placed it in his palm, folding his fingers over it. "So ask me now."

His face cleared, his eyes full of earnest intent. He looked down to prepare before he met her eyes.

"Lois Lane, will you—"

"—Yes." She cut him off before he could even finish. He gave her a broad grin as he slipped the ring back to its natural place.

"I love you." They kissed, surrounded by golden wheat. The moment was perfect—until Lois' phone rang in her pocket. She pulled back with an annoyed sound once she saw who was calling. She gave Clark an apologetic smile as she put it to her ear.

"Bruce? I sent you the information I got days ago. I swear I didn't hold anything back."

"I know." He sounded more serious than usual, and that was saying something. "We have a problem. I need you both here as soon as possible."

Lois felt a chill move through her despite the warm day. Clark caught her expression immediately and moved closer, his face full of concern. Lois met his eyes, sure that Bruce wouldn't be asking for them if he didn't have a real good reason.

They headed back to the house to share the good and bad news. Hopefully Martha was done with the suit.

* * *

Bruce leaned with both hands braced on the console, studying the satellite image drawn up. Diana was already dressed for war behind him and had just arrived. She studied the image and fired off questions.

"Midway?"

"Resolved. A few surprises along the way."

"Allen?" Bruce had gotten the information from her and headed to Central City on a private plane before he returned.

Bruce stood and turned to face her, wearing a vaguely baffled expression. "Eager. It was more difficult getting him to admit he was the Flash."

Diana's eyebrows raised slightly. Bruce fired off his own questions.

"Stone?"

"Took a bit of talking, but he's willing." Her smile was a bit reminiscent. "I like him."

Bruce nodded. "Curry?"

Diana mouth pursed. "Not very excited to see me. It seems Atlanteans have an eons old feud with Themyscira. Apparently my mother's stories were history lessons. She never mentioned that."

"Or you weren't listening?" Bruce's seriousness momentarily lifted so he could give her a sardonic look. She shrugged.

"He may never agree to work with us."

Bruce turned back to the satellite image and frowned at it. "He may not have a choice."

"Master Wayne," Alfred entered with Lois and Clark, "more guests have arrived."

"Good." Bruce noted Clark's restored symbol on his suit but didn't dwell on it. He turned to the console and began typing. The satellite image popped up even larger, along with a few other smaller ones and a readout running down the side. Bruce's words were slow and measured. "Something is approaching. I fear attack is imminent."

The others studied the indistinct shapes, clearly on a course for earth but not here yet. Lois spoke first. "When did this first appear?"

"Last night. NASA found it. The government is trying to keep a lid on it until they know more."

"How long do we have?" Diana's voice was grim.

Bruce's tone matched hers exactly. "Twenty four hours, maybe. NASA should have found this long before now, I don't think they traveled a long distance the traditional way. One day they're nowhere, the next they're almost here."

"And you're sure they're a threat?" Clark was standing with his arms crossed, his brows drawn together, very serious.

Bruce took a breath before he spoke, aware of his past feelings about aliens. "Yes."

Clark wasn't ignorant of the real possibility of potential threat, but he still wasn't convinced. "What makes you so sure?"

Bruce met his eyes. "Lex Luthor told me."

Clark's face changed instantly, his mouth dropping open a little and his complexion going slightly paler. Lois put a hand on his elbow, unable to hide the worry on her face now.

The entire room was suddenly full of dread, the weight of the situation lowering over them all. Bruce looked at each of them, then continued on. "We need to get the others here immediately and we need a plan." He turned to look at the screen again. "It's hard to know what we're up against before we see it, but there is one bright spot in this entire problem that gives me some hope."

Clark frowned at him across the room, unable to see a bright spot. "What would that be?"

Bruce turned at the waist to look at him, his mouth turned up in what Diana recognized as his classic half smile that was more of a smirk.

"Whoever they are, they think you're still dead."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaand the tradition still holds, an ending that leaves you hanging! I admit I worked in the details we have heard over the last few weeks, but I'm sure the film will play out much differently and BE AWESOME. This was just a fun exercise while we wait.
> 
> One thing I couldn't fit in was resurrecting reporter Clark Kent. It just doesn't fit the narrative here, Clark wouldn't spend time worrying about that when the world was threatened and he wasn't quite ready before. That might be a one shot later. :)
> 
> Thanks for all the support and feedback! You guys are awesome! :)


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